


The Ghost

by DarkLadyAthara



Series: The Ladies of Marvel [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Assassins & Hitmen, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Black Widow - Freeform, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War (Marvel), F/M, Family, Hiding, Hiding in Plain Sight, On the Run, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Red Room (Marvel), Secret Identity, Secret family, Sisters, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, slow enough it hasn't happened yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 114
Words: 406,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkLadyAthara/pseuds/DarkLadyAthara
Summary: A Marvel Cinematic Universe FanFictionWhile the Winter Soldier was a ghost story, Nadine Ryker is a ghost. She's The Ghost. Her past is a mystery, her identity even more so. Few knew her as Nadya Ivanovna Rykova, the lost recruit of the Red Room, never spoken of after her disappearance. But she got along just fine, hiding away with her secret life, re-emerging only to take contracts that few others are willing to take.But when she's contracted to take out a woman she once viewed as a little sister? Her life and her secrets all begin to unravel.***This story is effectively split into two parts, with Part I focusing on themes of the price of secrets, family, self-acceptance and finding somewhere to belong, with the romantic sub-plot beginning in earnest in Part II.Part I starts just before Avengers: Age of Ultron and Part II starts shortly after AoU ends and will go through to Captain America Civil War.Same 'Story-verse' as "Please Stay" though it's not necessary to have read it to enjoy this one!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is based solely on the Marvel Cinematic Universe live-action films. Nothing from comics, animated films or animated shows with barest hints, if any, to the live-action shows. The MCU and all recognizable characters are sadly not mine. I only own my tweaks and my characters. If they weren't in the movies I made them up.
> 
> It is being simultaneously posted on fanfiction.net under the same title and penname.

**New York City, USA**

**Winter 2014**

With a few quick taps on the tablet screen, Maria Hill deleted the communiqué, leaning back against the table she'd paused next to when the encoded message had come in.

Inhaling deeply, her mind was buzzing as she processed the information she'd just been provided, mulling over implications and courses of action. It had been left to her discretion, and quite often that would mean she'd keep it close to the chest. But Maria had grown rather close to her Avengers colleagues over the last couple months and her secret self, kept safely hidden behind the spy she was first and foremost, considered many of them friends. She'd known Romanoff for a long time now and, in addition to having a great deal of professional respect for her, rather liked the woman. She needed to know.

Looking up at the sound of footsteps too light to belong to one of the male members, Maria sighed as the Avenger in question retreated from the Conference Room, likely heading back to her own quarters to clean up after their most recent mission; a success, of course, but not the kind they'd been after.

"Natasha," Hill called, just loud enough that the redheaded spy heard her. Black Widow paused, glancing over to her fellow former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with a questioning look on her face. With a guarded but still curious frown, Natasha made her way to Maria's side, sipping out the last green-tinted dregs from the cup in her hand that Tony insisted everyone drink after their missions.

"What's up, Hill?" It was said lightly, but Maria knew Natasha was concerned; Maria rarely called her Natasha save when it was serious. For a split-second Maria regretted having deleted the encrypted message so quickly. It would have been simpler just to hand Romanoff the tablet to read it for herself. But Maria pushed the thought aside.

"I've had a message from an old friend," she said nearly under her breath. Natasha's head tilted with interest, her green eyes sharpening. Maria nodded in confirmation of the silent question. "He says there have been whispers underground that the Ghost has come out of hiding." Though she hid it well, Maria detected the worry that suddenly flooded through Romanoff by the way her full lips thinned, her face paling ever so slightly as her gaze slipped to focus somewhere inside her own head. After processing the information for a moment, Natasha glanced up again, meeting her colleague's eyes.

"Is there a rumoured target?"

Maria inhaled deeply, crossing her arms as she met Natasha's gaze head on and nodding.

"Rumour is the Ghost is being contracted to go after Captain Rogers or even Tony." Natasha's eyebrow quirked skeptically, knowing that Maria was about to add in a 'but.' It nearly drew a grin from Maria. But the former agent sobered immediately.

"But our friend says the Ghost is likely coming after you."


	2. Part I: Chapter 1

**Part I**

**Vienna, Austria**

**Spring 2015**

As the last of her students filed out of the studio, each offering up a polite 'see you next week' as they went, Nadine retreated to the far end of the high-ceilinged room to the hallway that led to her office. As she passed, she flipped the breaker that shut off the main lights and power to the room, the green light on the stereo in the corner winking off as a final confirmation that the room was no longer needed for the evening. Only the dim safety lights remained on. If he needed to, the janitor could always turn them back on, but he generally didn't feel the need to, save on nights when the floor was treated.

It was only once she had closed the door to the office behind her that Nadine Ryker allowed herself to relax. With the most recent Showcase done with the week previous and the prospect of scouts and agents showing up for the newest round of talent searching in the approaching ones, it had proven a stressful few weeks.

But this week was over, and Nadine didn't have any sessions that required her personal attention until the following Wednesday. With a sigh she sank into the dark-stained oak desk chair, massaging her fingers along her hairline and back to the functional chignon on the back of her head, the touch bringing back a prickle of sensation to her nearly numb scalp. She was seriously debating putting off her daily exercise and just calling it a night. An evening on the couch in a set of old sweats sounded heavenly just now. Smiling to herself at the appeal of the idea, she pulled her phone with its white protective case out from the pocket of her forest-green wrap dress to message Nina with the proposal. Knowing her, she would definitely be on board with the idea, especially given how busy Nadine had been the last few weeks. It felt like forever since they'd been able to spend any real time together.

But a soft ping interrupted her thoughts, pulling her attention to her bag where it sat tucked away beneath her desk. Not quite in the mood for what she knew that ping meant, she was nevertheless impatiently curious, setting her phone down mid-message. If it was what she believed it to be, it would mean the end of weeks of researching and planning.

Reaching beneath the desk, she tugged the simple, grey leather bag toward her before settling it on her lap, flipping open the top and loosening the drawstring. In seconds she had the nondescript black phone retrieved from its hidden pocket and, after entering her passcodes and running the decryption software, she was retrieving the message that little ping had announced.

Weeks of research and hard work had indeed paid off and her contact had come through. There was an opening, a chance, that Nadine could take advantage of.

And she was never one to miss an opportunity. That's why she was so successful.

Tucking the phone away, Nadine leaned back in her chair again, sorting through her thoughts for a moment before pulling herself back to her feet to retrieve her jacket and switch her studio shoes for her boots.

Whiling the evening away on the couch was out of the question now. As was her nightly practice, it seemed. Not bothering to hide her groan of disappointment, as there was no one around to hear it, she picked up her personal phone from where she'd left it on the desk and erased the message she'd been in the process of typing out, replacing it with another: _Something's come up for work. I might be out of touch for a couple of days. I'll be back as soon as I can. Love you, solnyshko._

The disappointed response that came back left Nadine's chest cramping with guilt; guilt for lying—even if it was by omission rather than outright lying—and guilt for having to leave at all. It wasn't even technically lying. It was her job that called her away, just not the work that Nina was aware of. Snatching up the grey bag, a small backpack, really, Nadine slipped around the desk, heading for the door.

Just as she was reaching for the antiqued handle, her white-clad phone buzzed again. Steeling herself for whatever Nina had responded with, she glanced down at the screen. The cramp in her chest eased, even if only slightly.

_Love you too, Mom._

Feeling a little lighter given her daughter's tacit forgiveness, Nadine turned the cellphone off, setting it on the bookshelf to the right of the door.

Nadine hit the lights to her office as she slipped into the hallway, locking the door to the office and the front door of the studio as she passed through each. With that, she tucked her keys into her bag and began her descent down to the building's front entrance.

But with each step down toward the ground level from the second story ballet studio, the warmth Nina's message had inspired faded, almost feeling like it was taking Nadine with it.

By the time she emerged onto the street, the ballet mistress and mother was locked away, her mind turning toward the impending visit to her Workshop.

It was time to go kill someone.

And part of Nadine hated how her pulse thrummed in anticipation. But she couldn't deny this was who she was, who she was made to be. And she couldn't deny the addictive thrill of the hunt.

The Ghost had emerged.

And her target was finally in her sights.


	3. Chapter 2

**Russia**

**Late Fall 1996**

She had gotten so used to disassembling, cleaning and reassembling the Makarov PM blindfolded, that whenever she was required to do so now, Nadya Ivanovna Rykova always did so with her eyes closed. Her fingers flew over the components, fitting them back together and a handful of heartbeats later it was ready to fire.

"Good." Nadya's eyes opened, glancing up to Madame B as she passed by the station Nadya had been working at. Sitting in front of her were several different firearms—a variety of handguns, Russian and American among others, a submachine gun and even an anti-personnel rifle—each cleaned, reassembled and neatly laid out for inspection. The corner of the older woman's mouth pulled a little, the closest thing to an approving smile she gave for the most part, before she moved on.

Around her other girls were similarly finishing up with their own batches of weapons. A thorough knowledge of firearms was merely one small component of their training, and their taskmistress was exacting to a tee.

"Faster, Natalia. Fast but not sloppy." Though the rules included ignoring any distraction, Nadya couldn't help but glance over at the sound of Madame B's almost casual admonishment. Almost as soon as their trainer had passed by the younger girl's table, Natalia glanced up herself to catch Nadya's eye, stressed green meeting grey. Nadya spared the girl a tiny smile before slowly shifting her gaze back to her own station. It was a trick long ago learned; slow movements were far less likely to catch attention.

"Nadya," but not today, it seemed, "again." Holding in a frustrated groan, Nadya complied.

It was no longer difficult work, stripping and reassembling the firearms they trained with, Nadya having mastered many of them long before she was Natalia's age, but that meant it was now tedious and exacting. The excitement of the challenge had long since worn off, and even Barrett anti-personnel rifle, the most recent addition to her personal arsenal given her particularly keen marksmanship, had become near second-nature. Even some of the old soviet weapons or the odd obscure ones from a variety of other countries they were sometimes given as a test were no longer a challenge. When it came to firearms, she was the best of every girl there whether it was handling or firing them, so that was no surprise.

Nadya was done quickly, outpacing not only the younger recruits—as was to be expected—but the older ones as well, including those at the same level as her. Not that there were many of them left, anyway. Of the eleven girls who started their training when Nadya did, only two others were left beside herself…that was unusual. Close as their group was to completing the program? Usually there would only be a single recruit left; none from the group ahead of Nadya's had even made it to their graduation ceremony.

Four of her groupmates had been killed by Nadya herself.

Training in the Red Room was hard, and their tests were harder. Only the elect few didn't break. Any who broke died.

To succeed was to live, and to live in this place meant others needed to die.

And Nadya was a survivor; those who weren't died quickly in the Red Room.

As they all stood, guns precisely laid out and pristine, Nadya caught Natalia's eye again, giving the girl another tiny smile. Nadya had been here a long time, and she had seen many, many girls die because they were not good enough. She had learned long ago not to allow herself to become attached to any of her fellow recruits. The last real friend Nadya had made among the other girls had not made it to her eleventh birthday. Nadya had been just barely ten years old herself. They were not here to make friends. They were training to be detached and untouchable. To become the most elite and efficient spies and killers in the world. It was easier when they didn't get attached to one another.

But Nadya hadn't been able to help but grow attached to the redheaded girl just about four years her junior, slowly but surely growing to see her as a little sister as the years passed. Especially when the younger girl had fiercely latched on to Nadya when the older groups had been instructed to mentor the youngers when they'd been moved into the Red Room program proper from the Nursery at age seven or so. Right from the beginning, Natalia was spirited and strong, and Nadya suspected that, of the girls in her recruit group, and possibly many of the others besides, Natalia would be the one to succeed and survive. Her will was too strong to be broken in this place. And she was smart, talented and driven. Already she was far ahead of the other girls brought in the same time she was. Yet she still managed to retain a sense of, well, humanity. She was still a young girl, despite everything they'd done to her so far to turn her into a ruthless and resourceful killer.

After their evening routines were rehearsed, their lessons reviewed and their dinner eaten, the girls, from the youngest—barely older than toddlers as many of them had been when they were brought to the mansion facility—to the oldest like Nadya, retreated to the dormitories. As the other girls settled down for the evening, some congregating instinctively like birds huddling against the cold, Nadya wove her way among the cots lining the walls of the dormitory until she reached Natalia's. The younger girl was sitting cross-legged on the thick wool blanket, her slight weight creasing the pristine folds.

Settling down beside her, Nadya bumped her shoulder against the redhead's, catching her eye. The younger girl only had a drained grin to return. Madame B had pushed her hard today, likely seeing the same potential that Nadya was beginning to glimpse in Natalia. Glancing surreptitiously to the nearest girls—one two cots down to the left, her back to them, a trio to the right looking at some American magazines and two more across the narrow aisle whispering together but not paying them any attention—a tiny conspiratorial smile curling her lips, Nadya reached beneath the bulky knit sweater she wore over the uniform they were required to wear for lessons. Natalia's eyes lit up at the clementine Nadya pressed covertly into her hands; the younger girls had received plums as their sweet with dinner, while only the oldest girls had gotten clementines as a treat, and Natalia loved clementines.

"Happy Birthday, _lisichka_ ," Nadya whispered as she gathered up the younger girl's vibrant hair, parting and braiding it into two neat plaits in preparation for bed as Natalia began peeling her treat.

When the younger girl had latched onto Nadya when Natalia's group had first been thrown into training from the Nursery, Nadya had been supremely unhappy about it. She had still been utterly resolved not to grow close to any other recruits since her friend Valerie had broken barely two years previous. That the tiny seven year-old all had all but clung to Nadya with fascination had severely irritated her, leading to her spitefully snapping out the nickname every chance she got in the hope that by simply being nasty she would lose her little shadow.

Of course, that had not happened, and eventually Natalia had managed to insinuate herself into Nadya's affections. The nickname had stuck though—and as it meant 'little fox' it was appropriate considering Natalia's bright fox-red hair, cunning, delicate face and quick, clever eyes—and reverted back to the nickname's more traditional, loving use rather than out of disparagement.

"Ladies." Every face in the room turned to Madame B. The older woman stood straight and cool in the doorway of the dormitory, surveying them all. Angling her body, Nadya managed to position herself so their supervisor wouldn't catch a glimpse of the yellow-orange peel in Natalia's hand. Nadya slipped her hand behind her back, managing not to grin when the cool peel was pressed into her palm.

Madame B's eyes scanned the room, picking out the two other girls from Nadya's group, the four from the group that had come after and Nadya herself. Discreetly, Nadya tucked the peel up into the waistband of her uniform skirt beneath her sweater; she would get rid of it later. She was hard pressed not to smile when Natalia's smaller hand reached out to help.

"Yanna, Maria, Inga, Elisabeth, Nadya, Lena, Katerina." That was all the Training Mistress said before turning and gliding out of the room again. But they all knew why she had called them. It wasn't the first time, and far from the last either. With a heavy sigh, Nadya glanced back at her younger friend, giving her an apologetic but reassuring smile before giving her hand a quick squeeze. Natalia's eyes were wary in her delicate face. While they didn't know why the oldest girls were being called away, the younger girls knew what was coming.

Screaming that echoed through the mansion complex.

But Nadya smiled softly and straightened the girl's fringe with a gentle ruffle.

"Don't worry about me, Natasha. I can handle it."

Then, straightening her spine and steeling her nerve, Nadya and the other six girls filed from the room.


	4. Chapter 3

**Vienna, Austria**

**Spring 2015**

Even when she was simply Nadine Ryker, Mistress of one of the foremost private ballet studios in and around Vienna, Nadine couldn't help the way her senses were always sharp, picking out details and assessing threats, her mind considering escape routes and analyzing her surroundings. But then, it was rare that she wasn't hypervigilant in every sense of the word, even in the nearly banal existence she usually had. She hadn't lived a life that allowed for anything else. It was too ingrained. She didn't even think about doing it anymore. She just did it.

Even as she unlocked her bike she was alert to her surroundings, her ears picking up the sound of passing cars out on the street in front of her studio's building, her eyes scanning the shadows lurking beneath the car of the broker who had an office below her studio.

After swinging her bag onto her back and loosening her long blonde hair from its strict confinement, she was slipping on her helmet and settling onto her bike, a discreetly customized BMW R1200GS. In a series of smooth, fluid movements the bike had quickly purred to life and Nadine was flipping down her black-tinted visor and pulling out from beside the building.

This time of evening the streets of Vienna were still relatively busy, but one of the virtues of the more compact, urban-friendly motorcycle Nadine had was that traffic ultimately meant very little to her. It wasn't long at all before she was speeding out of town into one of the outlying suburban neighbourhoods and on a little further still to a somewhat more industrial area.

Killing her headlights, Nadine made her final approach to her Workshop.

Registered to a shell company owned by a shell company founded by a person who didn't exist for another shell company and so on back to a discreet Swiss bank account that was in no way directly traceable to her, Nadine's Workshop was just about untraceable as it could get. Nadine had put a great deal of time, effort and capital into making it so.

Upon activating the encoded signal from her key fob, the side bay door of the smaller, rather nondescript warehouse opened without a sound, allowing her to drive her bike right inside. Then, leaving her helmet perched on the seat of the bike, she headed for the interior door, swinging her grey bag from her shoulder as she went.

After entering through the interior door of the parking bay and punching in her fingerprint-verified security code, she stepped into her Workshop, pausing at the panel to the right of the door to turn on the lights. It was a large enough space, high ceilinged and airy, that didn't quite run the length and breadth of the larger building it was situated within. She didn't need a large space, and the virtual maze of empty rooms and unfinished halls that broke up the rest of the building that housed her little sanctuary served as a security precaution should anyone actually manage to realize what this place was or track her here.

Crossing the space, past the sprawling bulletin boards that lined the workspace to the right of her private entrance where she mapped out her research on her targets—not that there really were any other entrances easily accessible from the outside anyway— she headed directly to the far right corner that held a partially walled-off area that was essentially a separate room below a small loft. Circling around to the desk within the small, office-like area, she dropped her bag into the functional desk chair and settled half-seated against the old metal desk. It was only then that she pulled out the nondescript black phone again.

After taking care of her security measures, she finally gave in and opened the digital packet sent along with the timeframe outlined in the original message.

So much for her weekend plans.

After reading through the docket and committing it to memory she dropped the phone unceremoniously onto the desk, the resultant dull clang echoing in the semi-enclosed space as she swore softly under her breath. It was finally happening.

Her chest seemed to clench tighter, the feeling nearly painful as it felt like her ribs were bound to collapse under the strain.

The first thought that ran through her head was that this might be the first mission she would be unable to accomplish.

She knew she was good and got things done that no one else could supposedly do, but it was getting ridiculous. There were variables at play this time that meant this was likely going to be an even more unpredictable situation than she'd anticipated. And just about all her missions were little more than an unpredictable mess.

It was a risk inherent with the types of contracts she took; targets that were often continually on the move precisely because of who they were, with substantial resources and well-placed friends to back them up, who knew just as well as she did how to keep off the radar. It was a good thing she was just that little bit better. This mission had moved quickly; only a couple of weeks of study, surveillance and organizing. It was almost painfully easy, really. It had simply come down to waiting for opportunity. One past contract she'd taken had taken years of dead ends and false leads to track down the target. That had been a tough one, her target nearly as good as she was. Nearly. It certainly hadn't been easy to pull off, though.

But then, if hunting other assassins were easy, she wouldn't be the best and often only one capable and crazy enough to pull it off.

That's why she got to charge a heck of a premium for her services.

But this time…there were more factors at play. If possible, the tight feeling in her chest seemed to wind tighter still. Nadine's eyes slid shut. It had been a long time since the Red Room, but the lessons were so ingrained into her being, that there was no possibility of forgetting them. And she lived those lessons. She was cold and detached and ruthless. Brutal even. She had to be. Mercy for her marks was not an option. It was never even a consideration.

Yet this time… Her eyes snapped open, her inner Madame B coldly staring down her doubt and banishing it somewhere she hoped it would never surface from.

She couldn't afford to fail.

It was something she'd been reminding herself for months. Something she still had to remind herself.

She forced her mind to go blank save for what needed to be done, compartmentalizing herself the way she'd learned all those years ago to survive and succeed in the place that made her what she was.

She was The Ghost.

The Ghost did not fail.

The doubt didn't go as far away as she hoped.

Sighing heavily, she retreated from the office to her Workroom on the opposite side of her Workshop, unlocking and rolling up the interlocking paneled door. It was not so much a designated room, really, as a custom built, 16x8 storage unit-style section placed in the far corner of the Workshop with something approximating a bench on one long wall and a variety of racking on the other two.

After slipping a case out from beneath the workbench and propping it open on the polished metal surface, Nadine easily grabbed up everything she needed. But before she placed one of her custom Barrett rifles inside, old habits kicked in, as they always did, and she stripped, checked and reassembled the gun, making sure every component was in perfect working order. Then, opening her eyes, she stowed it safely in its case.

Once zipped and snapped shut, she was lifting it down and shutting up the Workroom. She was on a timetable and that required efficiency. Her target was expected to be in Prague for a very short window. She needed to be there and ready.

It was why she wasn't stopping at home tonight, either. Biting back a disappointed groan, she set the sleek black case next to the set of sprawling bulletin boards that held the research to her personal project and ducked into the office area again. Once inside, she snatched up one of the compact duffles she had lined up on one of the lower shelves from the unit she had covering the east wall.

Within moments she was out of her ballet mistress-appropriate wrap dress and was slipping into her uniform; a dove grey, sleeveless catsuit with matching knee-high tactical boots beneath an off-white, lightweight fitted tactical jacket complete with Kevlar fibres woven into the fabric. Grey fingerless gloves were slipped onto her hands while around her waist and hips went her utility belt with its compliment of compact weaponry, including the custom gun and multi-knife combination holster that sat in the small of her back, all of which she promptly ensured were secure.

Then, snatching up her little grey bag after snapping the cursed black phone in its spot on her wide belt, she slung it and the partially empty duffle over her shoulder as she abandoned the office and retrieved the dark case as she passed through her research area.

Then, with a final, frustrated swing at the practice dummy stowed off to the side of the open area of the Workshop, Nadine killed the lights and returned to the garage.

Popping open the trunk of the charcoal-coloured sedan next to where she parked her bike, she slipped the dark case and the duffle inside before turning and tucking the grey bag on the rack near the door into the Workshop. She didn't need it where she was going.

In moments she was pulling away from the warehouse, the sedan purring as she turned it toward Prague. If she was smart and lucky, she could manage make the normally three to four hour trip in two and a half to three hours.

Just over two hours minimum, during which time she had to convince herself yet again that she could take out one Natalia Alianovna Romanoff.

It was going to be a long few hours.


	5. Chapter 4

**Russia**

**Late Fall 1996**

Despite the headache that pulsed behind her eyes and the way her muscles felt like they were cramping from overexertion despite having done little to work them yet, Nadya was alert and attentive. She had to be. Anything less was weak. Even the Treatment was no excuse for weakness. Far from it, really.

Anything less than perfection was considered failure. But she'd long learned how to suffer through. Headaches and broken fingers and cracked ribs were nothing to her now. She could hide it all, even from herself.

So when Madame B gestured for her and Inga to take the floor, her pale eyes lethal and cold, Nadya walked to meet the other girl as though her body didn't feel on the verge of rebelling against her. Each step was measured and easy, her breath coming in an even, relaxed rhythm. And before Madame B could say a word, Nadya was darting forward, hands and feet lashing out faster than Inga could track with her dark eyes.

But the other girl recovered quickly, retaliating in kind. She hit hard, and she struck fast, her heel connecting with Nadya's thigh with enough force she could have snapped the limb out from under her. But Nadya was faster, shifting her weight so the power transferred from the other girl's kick helped fuel Nadya's own attack, helping her twist and propel her body around and through the air to crash with precise efficiency into the dark-haired girl's torso.

Back and forth it went, both girls fast and clever, bodies lithe and honed into effective weapons. But Nadya was proving stronger, her strikes just that much faster, her blows—when they landed properly—just that much harder. Her acrobatics were fluid and swift. With one final, whirling tackle, Nadya sent Inga slamming into the floor with a violent crack, her knee digging into the centre of the other girl's back. Beneath her, the dark haired girl's breath wheezed erratically out of her, severely winded from being driven into the ground.

But she didn't finish it. She couldn't. It hadn't been an even fight. As much as Nadya knew she should, she didn't reach down and end it. Despite knowing that Inga was not the strongest of the older girls who remained, it sat wrong with Nadya to do it. It wasn't supposed to be a lethal fight today, not between the older girls. They were supposed to be able to fight until Madame B called time. Nadya shouldn't have been able to take Inga down as she had; she hadn't anticipated the degree of the Treatment's effects this time.

Which was why she should finish it; Inga was weak, especially compared to Nadya.

"Nadya." Madame B's voice was sharp and pointed. Nadya knew what she wanted. The other girl didn't even struggle, unable to fight back even if she had tried. The way Nadya had her pinned precluded any chance of continuing the fight unless Nadya let her. It would be too obvious if Nadya let her 'fight her way free.' Nadya glanced up from where her grey eyes had been fixed on the back of Inga's head.

Natalia was standing not far away among her own group mates, her green eyes grave and hard as she watched the scene before her. Every girl in the room watched, from the girls younger than Natalia to the remaining girl from Nadya's group, Katerina, who stood next to Madame B. Each one bore the same expression as the redhead on their face. Eyes sliding shut as her head dropped back to the girl lying helpless below her, Nadya inhaled deeply before her hands flashed out.

A wet crack echoed through the room.

Standing, Nadya glanced toward their Training Mistress, her own eyes as hard and blank as the older woman's. But even as unreadable as her face was, Nadya could still tell Madame B was disappointed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the eyes of one of the younger girls widen. But Nadya didn't have time to react, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly prickling with unease.

A faint, metallic whirr was all the warning Nadya got. Her breath catching in her chest in surprise, she just barely dropped out of the way as an arm drove through the air where she'd been standing a split-second before.

Her training and her instincts took over and Nadya's mind was once again focused on the fight as she spun around. It didn't allow for any more surprise, only analyzing and doing. As her new opponent lashed out with another lightning-fast strike Nadya was already moving, dipping around the blow and latching on to the arm that powered it, letting the man's momentum as he retracted the limb to pull her toward him, allowing her to shift her balance and swing her lower half around to use every inch of her body against him.

It was a desperate fight, more desperate than any other Nadya had experienced. Sure, there had been moments in past contests before the Treatments had begun, instants where Nadya had to force herself to move a little faster, and withstand a little more than she thought her body could handle to make it to the other side alive. But she'd never felt so out of her league before.

This time she did.

This man was fast and he was powerful. And he didn't hold back. Each hit he landed felt like a pile driver colliding into her body. At one point she felt one of her fingers crack, but she ignored it. Pain bloomed through her side as a kick that sent her flying partway across the room left her gasping for air, but she pushed it aside. She registered the sound of her boot impacting metal as he blocked a kick of hers with a forearm, filing the information away in case it could be of use. A damp, wet trickle trailed down over her cheekbone, the blood catching strands of her pale hair from where his elbow glanced off the side of her head, splitting the skin above her eyebrow. She merely dashed one of the drops away from her eyes. She ignored the deep, bruising ache that spread through her arm as she just barely deflected a rigid blow from a wide swing of his left arm, too intent on tilting away from the second swing he made with his right to pay it much mind.

She wasn't about to let on that she suddenly doubted she could beat him, not even to herself. Instead, she let herself think and move seamlessly, acting and reacting, analysing and strategizing.

As she danced and darted around him, using the whole of her body to combat him as she had been taught, she analyzed. And she made her split-second decision. As she leapt onto his back, her leg swinging up to hook around his arm and carry her weight around his body to unbalance him, her hand darted out. A smile of satisfaction tugged at her lips even as he recovered in time to snatch at her calf as she snapped her other leg around in an attempt to kick at his face, using her own force against her to wrench her from where she clung to his back.

With a grunt she slammed into the floor, but as he lunged forward to finish her she was rolling back to her feet and driving herself upward, her shoulder connecting hard with his chest as she twisted within his guard.

The stolen combat knife in her hand flashed out.

He stumbled back for an instant, looking almost perplexed but otherwise indifferent to the blood seeping from a slice across his cheekbone, narrowly missing his eye. Though catching the expression, Nadya didn't dwell. She couldn't afford to. She didn't even have time to frown with confusion or apprehension of her own. Instead, she took advantage.

With a snarl she propelled herself around, driving a powerful kick into his chest, off-balancing him, before dropping down to swing another first into his thigh, shocking the hard muscle into spasms, and a second into his gut. With a grunt he seemed to fold under her last kick, and for a split-second Nadya thought she might have a chance.

But his left hand closed painfully around her ankle in a move nearly too quick for her to register and yanked her toward him, his right lashing out to just barely miss cracking her across the face.

And then they were all but grappling. Lips distorted in a grimace, Nadya twisted and thrashed, fists and feet connecting anywhere she could manage, her knee flying up to drive with numbing force into his side. The knife, still in her hand, struggled to hit its target as the man ducked and bobbed and blocked each time she swung it around before snatching at her wrist and twisting until she cried out, the knife dropping helplessly from her fingers.

It was over in seconds.

In a lightning fast move, his left arm clamped around her neck as his right braced around the back of her head. For the first time since the fight began, panic seared through Nadya as the cool, inflexible grip encircling her neck shocked her out of struggling to break free, her fingers suddenly scrabbling for hold on the arm she finally registered as smooth, gleaming metal. As comprehension burst through her, awe mixed with terror. Behind her, he stilled, holding her completely immobilized against him.

Gasping for air as the metal limb restricted her airway, Nadya's eyes flashed to Madame B as the Training Mistress came to a stop in front of Nadya, her face cold and critical.

"I should let him finish you," she said softly. Behind the Training Mistress, horror flashed in Natalia's eyes, but Nadya forced herself to ignore it, fixing her attention on the older woman in front of her and the arms clasped painfully tight around her head and neck. Her chest clenching as a silent snarl twisted her lips, Nadya thrashed again, but the arm around her throat only tightened further, the fingers on the back of her head digging into her scalp.

A glimmer of amusement flashed in Madame B's hard blue eyes, but it was quickly gone. She stepped closer, her voice dropping lower. "Just because you were outmatched is no excuse for mercy. You were stronger than Inga, just as he is stronger than you. She was weak, she lost and she had to pay the price. You know this. Yet you hesitated. The success or failure of the Treatments have no bearing here. She lost to you because she was weak, not because the Treatment failed. Just because an opponent is physically stronger, that is no excuse for failure." Nadya clenched her teeth together, fingers clamped around the arm encircling her throat as she eyed Madame B defiantly. She was not going to beg. The supervisor at least looked satisfied when she realized that for herself.

Without warning the arms loosened and Nadya was collapsing to the floor, choking and gasping as air once again flowed freely into her lungs. Madame B resumed her place at the edge of the room. Her eyes fell mercilessly on Nadya as she stood, forcing her limbs not to shake as pain prickled through her body. The older woman's chin rose fractionally.

"Again."


	6. Chapter 5

**Prague, Czech Republic**

**Spring 2015**

It wasn't the ideal place to be taking her shot from—usually she preferred to be firing from much farther away—but given what she'd been put together about Romanoff's anticipated movements, it was the best of a bad situation. So Nadine sat on a balcony, tucked down behind the solid yet decorative stone railing, peering through the pillars to the street below as her rifle was held ready in her lap.

Hiding in plain sight. It was what she did, what she was good at.

No one ever saw her coming.

She didn't know precisely what Romanoff's mission was and she didn't care. It had taken the entirely of her drive here to Prague to somehow detach herself from what she was preparing to do but she had managed it anyway. From there she had gone on to figuring out how to complete her mission, her years of lessons in the Red Room and subsequent years of practical experience proving their worth yet again.

After the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. nearly a year before and the spilling of its secrets all over the internet, there was now a glut of intelligence out there for Nadine to take advantage of. And as all of her early preparation told her when she'd first been handed this mission, Natalia had more than earned the 'Black Widow' designation. A little part of Nadine was jealous; it was something every girl in the Red Room had aspired to, and for a short time, it was Nadya who had seemed poised to earn it. But that was a long time ago. Now Nadine was different. She wasn't Nadya anymore, with aspirations to a name that designated her as one of the best assassins in the world. Now she was The Ghost. Now she arguably _was_ the best assassin in the world.

She was the assassin they sent after assassins.

She was enough of a match for Black Widow.

…at least in theory.

It was still early, the street still mostly empty, though people were beginning to appear, heading for breakfast or work. There was a faint breeze in the air, stirring the fine strands from Nadine's high ponytail to cling to her cheek and lashes. With an absent gesture she freed the blonde strands, brushing them back before checking her surroundings…again.

But then something in the air seemed to shift, her skin suddenly prickling in anticipation. Instinctively, Nadine knew the critical moments were approaching. Slowly shifting the rifle, her movements slow and precise, Nadine readied herself, one boot bracing against one of the stone columns of the railing as she leaned forward to peer through the scope.

There was a hint of movement around the building across the street. The building itself was, for all appearances' sake, just another, run-of-the-mill business headquarters, one of several that lined this particular street. But it could easily be anything else, which was why Nadine'd had her contacts keeping it under observation.

Considering the determined way Natalia and her companions had been striking off HYDRA locations linked with records, research and data storage, it was a logical conclusion to draw that eventually they would hit this one; hence Nadine's surveillance of this particular building over the others on the list provide within the original target docket.

The beefed-up building materials the building boasted had cemented that conclusion for Nadine when she'd made her recon visit weeks earlier; the windows weren't just paned with your average glass and the doors and window frames were heavily reinforced. And considering the other sorts of materials on the shipping manifests and invoicing from the building's renovations not long ago, she was also willing to bet the walls themselves had been further fortified from within once HYDRA had set up shop in the building. Hell, it was possible that they'd built it in the first place; she hadn't quite looked that far into it since doing so hadn't been necessary, but the age and style alone suggestedas much; she was thorough, but not that thorough. Yes, it easily stood to reason that this building hid one such location. The electricity usage that the building was responsible for certainly indicated something more than simple commerce was happening inside.

Not that it mattered either way to Nadine. HYDRA might be ultimately responsible, though indirectly, for making her what she was, but she held no bias nor allegiance for them. Save the odd contract that was sent specifically to her as this one was, she chose the rare missions she took based on the particulars of the mission, not the politics or the motivations behind it. She'd gone after marks set by HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D. and others with no allegiance whatsoever.

So long as her marks met her criteria, she would take the mission.

And on paper, Natasha Romanoff fit that criteria.

Distantly she could hear the sounds that, to her trained ear, Nadine recognized as the sounds of a fight. She'd been correct. The movement she'd spotted skulking around the building had been Romanoff and her colleagues and they'd taken the fight inside.

Now it was a matter of waiting for the shot, the right moment.

Through the windows on the third floor a level below her, she could see bodies clashing and others flying while the distinctive flash of gunfire lit up the interior. There was definitely a fight going on in there. Across the street Nadine could just barely hear the sound of it wafting through the morning air; the building was holding the sound surprisingly well, reinforcing her conclusions about its building materials. But it didn't faze Nadine. Her rifle was customized to pack a powerful punch and her specially produced ammunition was more than capable of penetrating the strengthened glass if need be.

The only thing that concerned her was the apparent presence of multiple Avengers inside. Natalia hadn't come alone, bringing a few of her new friends with her. Nadine had been afraid of that. So far, judging from the flash of metal soaring around the room across from and below her, Nadine suspected Captain America was present and she believed for a brief moment that she spied Hawkeye and his bow running around as well. But there was little evidence that Iron Man had joined them, same with the Hulk or Thor. That didn't mean they weren't here, just that she hadn't seen them.

But then, it wasn't like this was a HYDRA stronghold. Given the power requirements, it was likely a server farm or data stop, given the location and minimal personnel that Nadine had catalogued as she scoped out the location earlier. It would have been overkill if they'd brought along the big guns for a reconnaissance mission.

Across the street the sounds of gunfire had trailed off, and as things began to look comparatively calm inside, Nadine readied herself. She still hadn't seen Romanoff and she knew her window was closing. If she had to move? If she had to trail Romanoff, the chances of her being able to pull off the mission cleanly decreased significantly. She exhaled slowly, her finger shifting from guarding the trigger to laying across it. She might only have a glimpse, but she needed to be ready to take it.

And she was.

But then Natasha looked right at her, and in that split-second Nadine hesitated, her carefully measured breath hitching.

Her shot reverberated through the street and the glass between her and her mark shattered, falling in a cascade of glimmering shards to the street below.

And Natasha went down.

As one, her companions spun to pin down her location. Normally, Nadine needed only to wait, and she was able to slip away unnoticed. But she should have anticipated that wouldn't be the case. Not only was she far closer to her target than she normally would have been, but Natasha's companions were Avengers; one the world's greatest soldier, the other purportedly the world's greatest marksman.

Both Hawkeye and Captain America's gazes locked on her location almost immediately.

In an instant Nadine was on her feet and rolling out of the way as a black-shafted arrow ricocheted off the pale stone wall where her head had been a heartbeat earlier. She didn't even have time to process that she'd actually been spotted before she was catapulting herself over the railing just as a second arrow exploded, shattering part of the façade she'd been braced against and sending chunks of the stone railing tumbling past her to the street below.

Twisting as she fell, she managed to land nimbly on the wide railing of the balcony below. Immediately she was whirling around, her rifle once again snug to her shoulder as she flicked it off the single shot setting and opened fire herself on the two Avengers.

The slugs deflected with blinding flashes and high-pitched rings off Captain America's shield even as Hawkeye dove for cover. She took the split-second opportunity to leap down another floor and then the last to the ground, tucking around her rifle to roll off her initial momentum.

But she had barely regained her footing before a hard, fast flash of metal was barreling toward her. With a gasp, she was barely able to dive forward and roll and out of its path, but the motion was too fast and she stumbling as she reached her feet again. Recovering quickly she was able to duck back again as the red and blue shield swung out toward her, this time attached to an arm.

And then it was simply a matter of falling back on her training. She lunged in low, driving the butt of her rifle hard into his solar-plexus, causing the Captain to grunt in pain. It was all she needed, winding up and swinging the gun like a bat to strike him across the face, forcing him to stumble back this time.

Before he could recover the gun had fallen from her hands as Nadine launched herself at him. Her knee reconnected with the undoubtedly bruised spot in the centre of his chest before her elbow drove into his temple and she wrenched his head down toward her knee, sending him reeling, all in the space of a heartbeat.

But he wasn't called a supersoldier for nothing. Regaining his balance, he re-engaged, his hands and fists flying, one swing managing to catch her in the ribs even as she wove around and turned away others, sending her own kicks and strikes toward him, the soldier barely able to deflect many of them. She could see in his face that she was faster than he anticipated. She nearly smiled.

As he continued to come at her, no longer holding back, she dove around him as his arm flashed out to nearly catch her about the waist. Using her own weight as leverage to twist his arm as she bent away from his grip, she leapt onto his back, further using her momentum and his to swing herself across his front and around his body, hooking her left leg below his chin and wrenching his head back over her right as it clamped behind his neck. It was a move that she'd seen snap a man's neck when used with enough speed and force, but the Captain wasn't an ordinary man.

With a surprised grunt he reacted by throwing himself backward and to the side, using his shoulder and his own weight to slam her hard into the pavement, crushing a breathless cry from her. A blazing surge of fire bloomed in her side, and absently she wondered if he'd cracked one of her ribs. In her shock, her legs loosened their grip, allowing Captain Rogers to pull himself free.

But she couldn't afford to let him beat her. She needed to confirm her kill and get the hell out of there. Still barely able to pull a steady breath into her lungs, she forced herself to move, flipping herself to her feet.

But then the edge of the shield slammed into first her middle, then up into her chin, snapping her head back. With an outraged cry she spun as Captain America went to smash the face of his shield into her, ducking beneath it and around him to wrap an arm around his neck in a partial chokehold. But he reached up before she could secure her grip, a hand clamping around the back of her head and neck as he dropped forward, pitching her over his head to slam into a nearby car.

This time she physically couldn't draw breath, the hit had been so hard. But even as she gasped she managed to pull herself to her feet, only for a blinding jolt of electricity to surge through her body the instant a blow with the force just shy of a bullet's slammed into her shoulder.

And everything went dark.


	7. Chapter 6

**Russia**

**Winter 1996/97**

He was a legend, a myth, a ghost story. How on earth the Red Room had been able to get the Winter Soldier to appear in the flesh to test its recruits was a mystery to Nadya and it was a development she wasn't sure she liked.

Before it had happened, she would have been thrilled. The chance to test her skills against an agent and assassin of the caliber of the Winter Soldier? She would have leapt at the opportunity to face him.

Now that she had…

It wasn't so much because she had never beaten him while sparring—no one had come close, though Nadya had come closest, so it was a moot point—it was him himself.

There was something… _wrong_ …about him. It took some time to figure it out, but eventually Nadya was able to place the feeling.

He was hollow. Empty. He was a blank slate, a shell of a man who only seemed to exist to follow orders. And it scared Nadya. It also inspired a great welling of pity for the man. Because he was incredible. Stronger than anyone she'd fought or even met and faster than should have been possible. The way he moved was captivating and watching him fight was like a witnessing deadly dance. His body was sculpted and perfected into the ultimate weapon, easily drawing Nadya's eye whether she wished it or not. And he was obviously smart and definitely creative; the best fighters had to be. Assassins even more so, and he was the best. Which was a big part of what made the reality of him so, well, upsetting and tragic.

When he stood waiting for orders or his next match, he seemed so lost. He seemed disoriented, even childlike in his uncertainty as he waited, still and ready, for whatever he was instructed to do next. She'd never even heard him speak. Something awful had been done to this man's head to turn him into the Winter Soldier, to wipe him clean of whoever he'd been before, and it sent a chill down Nadya's spine. It was more than simple brainwashing, more than indoctrination; those she was intimately familiar with, having been taught to recognize and beat them even as she'd been a recipient in her early years. His steel-blue eyes were virtually dead as they scanned and analyzed his opponents, his face—younger and handsomer than she'd expected given his reputation and the stories about him—was blank no matter the painful hits he took or how often he soundly beat and even nearly killed the young but deadly girls sent up against him.

Because they were all deadly. Natalia's group was the youngest to be permitted to train against him and you didn't survive to their age without kills, both of the weak and of those brought in to train against. Of the younger girls, Natalia fared the best, her size, speed and ferocity off-putting to man used to going up against grown men and women. Katerina, the only other girl left from Nadya's group, fared the best next to Nadya herself, her hand-to-hand and close-quarter combat skills second to none; before the Treatments, Katerina had been the only one capable of beating Nadya, the blonde often only just barely surviving their matches out of cleverness. But then, being only a couple months from graduation, it would have been incomprehensible for it to be otherwise.

He was unbeatable.

Nadya watched with calculating eyes as Lena struggled against him, crying out angrily as she twisted free from the grip he'd secured across her shoulders, earning a brief reprieve. It would only be moments, though. Nadya could see the brunette from the group after hers was tiring fast, her honey-brown hair clinging to her damp face. Nadya couldn't help but clench her teeth. This was the third round Madame B had insisted on for the younger girl. Only the purpose seemed to be bent more toward humiliation, this time, rather than training.

Across the room, Natalia's wide eyes met Nadya's, her green gaze hard with the same frustration Nadya felt. Each girl was on her own in the Red Room, fighting only for her own success. That was the way of it. But Nadya could hardly stand this. Lena was going to break eventually, within the next handful of months, she suspected; Nadya had been here long enough that she could see the early signs. But she was not on the verge of breaking yet, not today.

An idea swiftly formed in her mind as she glanced back to the Winter Soldier before her grey eyes darted to the head of the room. Madame B's attention was fixed solely on Lena. Another minute and the younger girl would be done. And judging by the hard look in their taskmistress' eyes, she might not be allowed to get up again once she went down. Nadya couldn't agree with that. Even if her fate was already virtually written, Lena had gone up against him three times now, and had done well each time regardless of the abuse she'd suffered already. She hadn't earned that fate today.

Catching Natalia's gaze again, she pointedly flicked her eyes to the fighting pair in the centre of the room. Intrigued, the younger girl's head canted fractionally, indicating her interest. The two girls had grown close enough that they needed little more than minute gestures to communicate; a skill being put to good use today. Hiding the grin that threatened to curl her lip, Nadya slowly curled the fingers of her left hand around her opposite wrist before shifting her right arm behind her back. The corner of Natalia's mouth twitched. It was enough of a sign for Nadya, who answered with a slow, deliberate nod.

It all happened so fast no one had time to react, including the Winter Soldier. In unison Natalia and Nadya sprang into action, sprinting onto the floor. Just that little bit closer, the redheaded girl reached him first, darting beneath his metal arm as it recoiled to slam first her leg then her knee into his side, crushing a grunt from him and causing his grip on Lena to loosen before dropping and rolling away from his grasping metal fingers. Not willing to pass up the opening, knowing full well it could be her life if she did, Lena was immediately latching on to the flesh forearm that had been holding her and twisted around him, using her weight to wrench the limb behind him as she slammed into the back of his legs with her body, effectively hobbling him.

Even as she did so, Nadya had used Natalia's ready shoulder as a Launchpad, springing onto his back to perch on his shoulders, her fingers latching beneath his chin to yank his head back hard against her hip. A flicker of rage passed over his face as he staggered, his steel-blue gaze boring into hers as the closest thing to shock she'd seen flashed to life in his eyes.

Springing to her feet as soon as Nadya's foot had cleared her shoulder, Natalia was darting around him again, using Lena as her own springboard to drop her own weight onto his metal arm, pulling it away from where it had been scrabbling at Nadya's folded knee. Then, with a swinging motion that caused the Winter Soldier to sway worryingly beneath them, Natalia let herself collide into his back before landing nimbly on her hands and driving her boots up into the back of his knee right as Lena released his other arm. With a lurch he collapsed to his knees, his whole body jolting as a pained bellow choked out of his throat.

Somehow, Nadya managed to hold on as he staggered, her eyes still locked with his as her jaw clenched from the effort of keeping his head and neck immobilized. But as his knees slammed into the floor, she let the impact jerk her sideways from her perch and cause her legs to slip from his shoulders, one to hook around the elbow of his metal arm and the other to drive her heel into his sternum as she deliberately swung further to the right.

It was too much for his equilibrium to handle and he collapsed sideways, his right arm pinned by his own weight. The combined grip of Nadya's thighs and hands held his upper body hostage even as Natalia tangled his legs with her own weight and added her grip to restraining his metal arm against Nadya's leg. A look of utter astonishment on her face, Lena had leapt free the instant he'd begun to fall.

Nadya was still caught by the way his vivid eyes remained latched, stunned, on hers.

A single, muffled thud echoed through the room, already silenced by the crash of the Winter Soldier falling to his knees.

Recognizing the signal to yield, Natalia too leapt back, her disbelief flashing in her eyes even as a satisfied smirk teased her lips as she surveyed the Winter Soldier lying prone before them. It took another moment for the sound of his pinned hand thumping the floor to reach through his compelling gaze to register in Nadya's brain. Blinking abruptly she pried her clenched fingers apart even as she had to consciously relax her legs. As soon as he was free of her grip, he snapped to his feet with an abrupt jerk. Rolling warily to her own feet, Nadya watched him out of the corner of her eye as he paced just beyond her reach, his face not quite so blank as before as a faintly perplexed and troubled look fell like a shadow across his face.

Madame B surveyed the three of them, her eyes falling particularly on Nadya and Natalia. Nadya nearly jerked with surprise as she looked up to the Training Mistress.

The very corner of the older woman's lip was nearly—not quite, but nearly—tilted into a smile.


	8. Chapter 7

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

The ground was humming beneath Nadine as she came to, her eyes snapping open as she realized she was in a vehicle. No, that was wrong. It wasn't just any vehicle. They were flying.

She was airborne.

"Hey Cap, she's wakin' up."

And as she tried to roll over and sit up, she realized she was tightly bound on top of it. Strong ties bound her wrists behind her back, while her ankles were similarly tied and linked to her wrist bindings so that she felt trussed up like a bird ready for the roast. And someone had stunned her; her muscles were still twitching from the aftereffects of the voltage used…probably Hawkeye… It must have been some sort of taser arrow that hit her, she realized, recalling that last instant before she'd blacked out.

A few strands of blonde hair tickled across her cheekbone, irritating in her momentary inability to brush them aside. She bit back a huff of frustration.

While she wanted nothing more than to snap herself free and show the Avengers precisely how she felt about their poorly-considered decision to restrain her, she knew she needed to play this carefully. After all, not only were they all confined in rather limited—and airborne—quarters, but Captain America and Hawkeye weren't run-of-the-mill Mercs or thugs. They had their respective reputations for a reason. She needed to be smart about this.

As she shifted in preparation to right herself, automatically testing the ties as she went, a large, solid body lowered down beside her. Still awkwardly lying halfway between her back and side, her legs bent so her ankles were up near her hands, she was forced to crane her neck back to meet the blue eyes looking down at her.

Classically handsome was the first term Nadine would have used to describe the Captain as he knelt by her side, one arm propped on his knee as the other rested on his hip. The second was far less kind. He watched her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful and intent as he studied her. She kept her face carefully blank as she stared back, her left hand slowly beginning to migrate toward her utility belt.

"I wouldn't do that." Her gaze flashed to the left, locking on Hawkeye as he lounged against another bulkhead just behind the Captain, his sharp eyes fixed on her. At her impatient huff, his eyes flicked to her belt before he casually dropped them to where he was fiddling with the guard on his hand. "She's probably got something for helping to break free of zipties on that belt, Rogers, so stay sharp." Biting back a sigh, she gave up on the surreptitious movement, ignoring the nearly amused raised eyebrow Rogers was giving her. Well, it would have been too simple otherwise, she supposed. More a test than a plan, her mind automatically changed track. She shifted again to find a better position; there was a bulkhead behind her that was digging sharply into her shoulder-blade.

"You're both awfully friendly considering I killed your friend," she said pleasantly. Behind Rogers, Barton snorted before glancing over toward the centre of the main part of the cabin. Given that the soldier was kneeling between her and whatever the archer was looking at, Nadine couldn't see what he found so amusing, but Hawkeye's reaction alone had her anticipating the voice that spoke up next.

"If this is dead, I'm not impressed." Nadine's eyes slid shut with a painful mixture of frustrated despondency and relief as Natalia—though apparently she went almost solely by Natasha now—sat up with a groan from the stretch of seats serving as a makeshift cot beyond Rogers and Barton both, just barely visible over Roger's shoulder from where Nadine lay. The blonde assassin allowed her head to fall back with a dull, metallic thud against the bulkhead.

She had to pull her shot…all because she couldn't control her reaction at seeing Natalia again.

And for that, she had risked everything.

"Should you really be getting up?" Nadine nearly smiled, easily imagining the look Natasha was likely giving Barton as he spoke, "you did just die, apparently." Nadine groaned at the archer's lame attempt at a joke, and apparently Black Widow was just as impressed.

"In that case, recovery is going to take longer than I thought," she replied dryly, earning a bark of laughter from Hawkeye and even a light chuckle from the Captain. At the sound of the slow, lighter steps coming closer, Nadine let her eyes open again, reinforcing that her expression was still blank. A pair of familiar green eyes looked down at her, a flurry of emotion written in them even as they studied her carefully, taking her measure. Nadine simply studied her right back. With a faint but unreadable grin, the redhead gingerly settled herself down beside Barton, the archer shifting to make room next to him as he watched his injured companion with wary eyes that belied the easy expression on his face.

"Nadya," Natasha greeted softly, her voice betraying little.

"Natalia," Nadine replied, her voice saying less. Her grey eyes took in the field dressing packed against her old friend's side, "you didn't die."

"Were you actually trying?" Nadine blinked at the knowing smirk that played about Natasha's full lips before an inadvertent one of her own tugged at her mouth. It was such a familiar expression, she couldn't help it, another flutter of relief going through her. Apparently some things never changed. On some level, Black Widow was still her  _ lisichka _ .

"Obviously not hard enough," she said back, the familiar, teasing tone returning easily before she could stop it. The smirk solidified.

"I thought The Ghost never missed," the Redhead said impishly. Next to Natasha, Hawkeye started, his eyes darting between Natasha and Nadine with before settling warily on the bound woman on the floor. It took a great deal of willpower not to right herself. Rogers, on the other hand, looked faintly lost, his brow creasing.

"Ghost?" Natasha looked over to him, taking in his questioning look before answering, a calculating glint surfacing in her eyes as she watched Nadine thoughtfully. Nadine recognized that look. Natasha was assessing her reactions. Well, Nadine wasn't intending to give her much to go on, easily schooling her features as Natasha filled him in.

"The Ghost; an assassin who hunts assassins. Can track them down and take them out when no one else can, then vanishes without a trace. Exists and lives completely off the grid, only surfacing to take contracts. And The Ghost has never missed," she smiled again, an oddly satisfied look on her face, "at least until now." Nadine nearly rolled her eyes.

"I guess I'll need to change my business cards," she bit back sarcastically. Natasha chuckled, though she cut off with a wince as she jostled her bullet wound. Nadine fought back a flicker of guilt-tinged concern; she couldn't afford to think like that. Barton tensed, his hand unconsciously edging toward the holster on his thigh as he processed what Natasha was implying.

"Wait, she's The Ghost? And she was after you?" But Natasha ignored Barton, her attention still on Nadine. Next to her, Rogers straightened at the realization, though Nadine purposefully paid him little mind. It was almost amusing, their unease upon realizing who she was. A disbelieving near-laugh huffed out of the female Avenger.

"I have to say, I didn't think it'd be you. I thought you were long dead." Nadine shrugged as best she was able, allowing herself a faint wince as the ache in her side from one of the Captain's hits flared far more painfully than it should have thanks to her awkward position. Beside Natasha, Barton shifted, his unease poorly hidden as he watched her. Once again, she fought back the urge to right herself. Natasha glanced to Rogers. "Really Steve? You could at least let her sit up." The soldier shot her an admonishing look before shifting forward, a hand closing around Nadine's arm and helping to ease her into a sitting position, his grip lingering to ensure she was steady. As Nadine settled on her knees, relaxing and shifting against the bonds still restraining her wrists and ankles, she eyed the cautious soldier for a moment with veiled curiosity before looking to the woman sitting across from her.

"Evidently not. I managed to give them the slip before they could finish me off." Natasha's eyebrows raised with surprise, that alone indicating just how unexpected the implications of Nadine's comment was.

"You ran away!" Nadine hesitated at the faint disbelief in her tone, frowning for a moment before the reason why hit her. She hadn't quite anticipated that.

"None of you realized I'd run away. They just let you think I'd died," Nadine replied tonelessly. Really, she should have expected as much; she remembered far too easily precisely how that place had worked. Natasha nodded in confirmation.

"It wasn't out of the realms of possibility," Natasha admitted, "they just treated your sudden disappearance the same way they treated deaths any other time. We all just came to the conclusion that you'd died, like some of the others in your group." Nadine nodded absently in agreement, easily picturing the sort of response Madame B would have provided within the facility for the other girls. She shifted again, almost enjoying the way the two men tensed at the movement. Every time she did, they were reacting a little less. Simple. Besides, she could tell they were interested in what was passing between her and Natasha; they were intrigued by the latent ease and familiarity between them despite the lingering wariness. She glanced up at Natasha. The redhead was eying her thoughtfully, eyes beginning to narrow before Nadine spoke up.

"I imagine they let you all think that to keep the rest of you from realizing running away wasn't impossible, to keep it from happening again," Nadine offered softly, the statement not really requiring a response. Natasha shrugged and nodded in vague agreement of her own after a moment of thought. She met Nadine's eye.

"Yeah. They simply refused to talk about you. Let us come to our own conclusions. But just think how proud they'd be now of what you became," Natasha said after a moment, a wicked gleam in her eye. Nadine smirked darkly in response.

"An assassin who is good enough to hunt assassins? I should hope so." Rogers had been content to this point just to listen, but as he sat back on his heels he fixed Nadine with a hard look.

"Is that why you tried to kill one of my team? Because Romanoff is a trained assassin?" Nadine couldn't help the patronizing huff that escaped her as she turned to Rogers.

"I tried to kill her because I was hired to. And I was hired specifically because she is one of the world's best assassins," she shrugged, "so you are sort of right." Rogers frowned. Nadine glanced up at him, absently intrigued that he ignored her needling.

"So why Natasha?" Nadine shrugged. There was little point in being evasive at this point…well, at being excessively evasive. Besides, there were benefits to allowing them some information.

"They didn't tell me that. They just gave me her name and a list of the locations you all were likely to target next."

"Our targets?" Natasha exchanged a startled glance with her teammates, "someone in HYDRA, then." Internally, Nadine smirked. As they all looked away from her, Nadine shifted subtly again, silencing a noise of discomfort as the sharp pressure on her fingers sharpened before it abruptly eased. That was one. Natasha's critical gaze jumped back to Nadine, her tone baffled. "Why would they give you a list of our targets in the first place? Half your reputation is being able to track down your marks when no one else can." Nadine shrugged.

"Normally? Yes, that's true."

"This wasn't normal?"

"Depends what you mean by normal. Normally, I have to track down my targets from square one and I'm given the time to do so, but sometimes they send me everything, right down to possible locations and a timeframe they'd like me to have it done by. This time they gave me a list of locations you were likely to hit and instruction to get it done ASAP. I only had to make an educated guess about which ones were the most likely, investigate then deduce which one would give me my best chance and then simply keep my ear to the ground for hints when you were about to move on it. There was still tracking involved, it just wasn't so intensive as usual."

"They? Care to share who 'they' are?" Steve asked. Nadine only shrugged again, causing Rogers' frown to deepen at something he saw in her face, "you don't know who hired you." Nadine bristled at the statement, shifting again, her face going blank again out of sheer habit. Truthfully, she hadn't expected the soldier to ask the one question that she hated that she didn't have the answer to. It was enough to confirm his suspicion, the Captain's expression growing even more troubled. Natasha leaned forward.

"How do you not know?" Nadine glared at her fellow assassin. While Rogers had figured out her nonverbal response to the who, it was Natasha who quickly put together why; Nadine could see it in her eyes. Somehow the redhead knew that there was more to this than a simple contract and she already suspected what that more was.

"With missions I choose for myself, I make a point of knowing," Nadine finally said softly. Her eyes dropped, fixing angrily on a point on the floor. "But some marks are chosen for me."


	9. Chapter 8

**Vienna, Austria**

**Summer 2007**

Nadine couldn't help but chuckle, a smile rising to her face of its own accord as the girl across the high-ceilinged room spun and danced along with the music playing through the studio.

Even before she had left her life in that place far behind, Nadine had vowed she would never dance again once she left the Red Room, and that no one would ever force her to again. She'd had enough of it. At first she'd stuck to that vow, the thought of ballet and ballerinas and dancing making her feel physically ill.

But as time passed and she got deeper into constructing the identity and life of Nadine Ryker, it began to edge its way back into her thoughts.

Nearly a year after she stopped dismissing the idea out of hand, after years of moving, of running, she had opened her Ballet Studio.

And in the handful of years that had passed since, she had grown to appreciate the art as she never had during her days in the Red Room. Strangely enough, it allowed her distance from her life before. While discipline was still valued in her Studio as it had been then in the Red Room, it was encouraged to very different ends. Where once dancing had been a facet of being molded into a killer, in her Studio, girls who danced under her tutelage were being molded into artists. Her dancers danced for the sake of dancing, not for the sake of becoming 'unbreakable'. They didn't dance to weed out the weak or to break the spirits of those not strong-willed enough or to hone bodies destined to become the ultimate weapons. Her girls danced to create beauty, to embody the music with every breath and gesture and to hone their bodies into living works of art. These girls were everything the girls Nadine had once known were not.

But Nadine never _had_ to dance herself. Eventually she did try, turning on the music with the volume down low, dancing late at night in the private emptiness of the Studio she ran. And she knew as she did that she never had to again unless _she_ wanted to.

It actually made her…happy.

For the first time, it had made her feel like her life was truly her own. To know as she spun and swayed and dipped that she never had to do it again if she didn't want to was profoundly calming and oddly wonderful.

She hadn't felt the need to dance again since that night.

And for some equally odd reason that she couldn't explain, that knowledge had made the mantle of The Ghost easier to bear.

That the skills she possessed proved valuable outside the framework she'd been raised within became readily apparent almost as soon as she'd abandoned the Red Room. As a result she'd fallen into that life almost immediately. Spying and killing had been all she'd known and all she knew how to do. She'd needed to make a living, to survive, and utilizing what the Red Room had taught her was a way to do it, unpleasant as it felt. She'd moved quickly from small hits to trickier, harder to track targets, building a reputation as an assassin who always found their mark. She never missed.

As her reputation grew the offers grew as well, as did the challenge inherent in each mission.

And then she had been offered a contract to take out another assassin, one she'd known. She'd remembered him from the Red Room; he'd been brought in to test them. Nadya had passed; seven others hadn't. To take out a contract on another assassin was a massive gamble. To even offer the contract was sometimes suicide, since some assassins took such things personally. Few hired guns would agree to go after one of their own. It was harder, more dangerous, and the chances of it failing or simply going wrong were exponential if the target could even be found. Attempts backfiring completely were not uncommon to hear about. After all, assassins didn't stay in the business long if they were easy to track down or kill. When Nadine had finally tracked Andrei Azarov down in eastern Moldova, she hadn't hesitated.

It was the first hit where she didn't feel hollowed out after; the thrill and the satisfaction of it hadn't been unpleasant either.

Ripples had spread through the intelligence community; an assassin who successfully took out other assassins. Ripples became waves when she took out her second. It was said she might as well have been a ghost for all the trace she'd left. The name had stuck.

The Ghost had been born.

She was rarely ever offered standard contracts again.

She wasn't unaware of the irony of her situation. But she could live with it. She became the one to go to with contracts on those other assassins didn't want to touch; almost solely other assassins.

Soon, there was no one better.

And she used the payouts to bury herself away from the rest of the world.

Across the polished floor of her Studio, the song changed and the girl darted over to the stereo to return to the song before. Nadine shook her head in fond amusement before retreating to her office. As much as she wanted to stay and watch, there was always something to do. The monotony and comparatively straightforward responsibilities of a 'normal' life were grounding. It balanced her life as The Ghost.

It was a good life she'd buried herself in, one completely separate from the one she'd lived in before and the parallel one she lived where she earned her way dispatching others who killed for a living. She'd gone to great pains to make it so, distancing herself from particularly telling details that could directly link her to the KGB or the Red Room, all while positioning herself to hide perfectly in plain sight. There were still links; her new name was a loose derivative of her birth name, for instance, but sometimes the obvious choices were the best. She used the things she couldn't change to her advantage.

While she hid that she was born in Russia, she didn't hide that she had grown up there or that she could speak the language. It was then logical because of that detail that she made her documented living teaching ballet that leant toward the Russian styles she'd been taught rather than the German ones common in Vienna where she eventually settled. The backstory she'd fabricated was meticulously constructed from a subtle mix of truths and half-truths mingled with falsehoods, right down to the smallest details.

Her training to become a master spy had not been wasted.

A faint ping distracted her from her thoughts. At once her mind switched gears. Normally, when her secret, untraceable black phone—her Work phone, as she thought of it—pinged, it meant that a contact had come through or a search that she'd been running had come up with hits or other such developments. Since she was between contracts at the moment, the soft ping indicated the algorithm she used to flag offers sent through the deep web for The Ghost had gotten a viable hit.

As her reputation and exclusivity grew, the offers for contracts that she seriously considered waned, especially as her price went up. She simply didn't need to take as many, so she didn't. But that was alright with her. She was perfectly content to take only one or possibly two contracts every year or so, especially as it sometimes took that long to track down her marks in order to take them out in the first place. There were always offers for The Ghost but few caught her interest. There was only one genuine Ghost, and her reputation alone allowed for her to be very picky about what she would come out of hiding for.

Standing and walking sedately across the room, she closed the door to her office before returning to the dark-wood desk and retrieving the black phone from its hiding place. No one but Nadine knew of her Work phone, just as no one knew about her Workshop. One practice she adhered to above almost all others was to keep her dual lives as separate as possible. It took only a moment to enter her codes and decrypt the phone. But it wasn't a usual offer that was waiting for her.

This time it was very different.

As soon as she accessed the offer, the notification for a message appeared, sent directly to her; an untraceable message sent directly to a phone that was supposed to be untraceable.

Her brow furrowing with confusion, she opened it. As soon as she read the message all the blood rushed from her face, dropping to feel like it was pooling in a heavy sludge in the pit of her stomach. Feeling sick, she sank back into her desk chair before her legs managed to collapse beneath her.

There were two attachments.

The first held photos. Photos that nearly had the nausea suddenly roiling in her stomach clawing up her throat. There were photos of her as a child, deep in the regimen of the Red Room, one possibly even of her first kill, judging by how young she looked. Pictures of her as a teen, dispatching one of her tests with cool impartiality, the proof of the dispassionate killer she'd become in her hard grey eyes. Pictures featuring pale blonde hair, training uniforms and ballet leotards. Pictures of knives and guns and broken bodies. Of metal arms and grappling hands. Pictures she'd never known existed, hadn't even realized had been taken. Pictures of blood and sweat and a young life devoted to one thing; violence and death. Pictures of a life she wished she could forget.

But most disturbing of all were pictures of her life now. Copies of documents she'd kept safely hidden away, ones never meant to see the light of day, each pointing a spotlight on the lies she'd built her life around. Pictures of her little home, of her studio, her students.

Pictures with a little girl with blonde hair just as pale and fine as Nadine's.

Abruptly, Nadine wanted nothing more than to throw the phone against the wall and watch it smash to pieces. She would run. She'd built a life from scratch once and she could do it again. She'd do it better. Somewhere, she'd made a mistake, and judging by some of the pictures, it had been a long time ago.

Whoever this was, they'd been watching her for years.

She'd find the mistake and she'd fix it.

She'd disappear again.

But as the images she'd never realized were taken burned into her brain, she realized she didn't truly have that option. If they'd been able to find her through all the safeguards and smokescreens and work she'd put into hiding herself and the normal part of her life…it meant even if she ran, if she completely started over, they'd find her.

She looked down to the message again.

_Hello, Nadya. Yes, we know who you are. We know you're The Ghost. You have no secrets from us._

_And we have a mission for you._

The second attachment was the docket for an assassination.

There was no need for an explicit threat. It was implied in the precise order of the photos, of which photos were specifically included.

Pictures of her daughter playing…

…immediately followed by pictures of another fair-haired girl paying the ultimate price for her weakness at Nadya's hand.

Biting back a furious dry sob at having allowed herself to be trapped like this, Nadine had to fight to get her fingers to type out a return message. It felt like her joints had turned to stone, each tap of her fingers grinding and heavy.

_I accept_.


	10. Chapter 9

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

Each of the three Avengers eyed her grimly at her soft, bitter confession, Natasha most intently of all.

"You're being blackmailed." It wasn't a question, so when Barton said it, Nadine felt no compulsion to respond. If she had, it would have been a resounding 'obviously.' Instead she changed topics. There was nothing more to be said on the matter. Nadine fidgeted again, shifting her feet beneath her. Neither the captain nor the archer reacted beyond an absent glance, focused instead on her silent admission. Natasha eyed her, seeming not quite sure what to make of the assassin in front of her, of her former friend, her once sister.

"Where are you taking me," Nadine asked, voice once again impassive. She easily restrained a sigh of satisfaction that no one paid any notice to a faint, muffled snap as she spoke, not even hearing the sound, attentive as they were instead on her controlled tone. Rogers stood slowly, his arms crossing as he did, still surveying her curiously with a gaze far less distrustfully critical than even a few moments before. While she hadn't intended for her true situation to come out, she had to admit it was proving useful.

"Back to New York, to the Avengers Tower," the Captain said frankly. Had she been in any other situation, Nadine might have been tempted to respond with some manner of acerbic quip.

Instead all the blood left her face.

"I can't go to New York."

"You're not really in a position to negotiate," Barton retorted dryly. Nadine's pulse was thrumming as a feeling disturbingly close to panic began building in her chest. It took every ounce of training she had to keep her reaction to herself. Yet Natasha's eyes were nevertheless sharp on Nadine.

"I can't go to New York," she simply repeated, her voice far steadier than she felt, "you're not dead, Natasha, which means they might very well make good on their threats. I have a life that I have to protect." Natasha's eyebrows lifted in skeptical doubt. Nadine scoffed, though the sound that came out was nearly a growl. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"In this line of work?" Natasha's head tilted, the doubtful expression still hovering in her eyes, "a bit."

"It can be done," Barton interrupted with a nonchalant shrug, shooting Natasha a look. "It's not impossible. There are agents who have lives outside this job; families…" Rogers glanced over at his companions, giving Barton an exasperated look that had the archer trailing off vaguely, "…hobbies…chickens…" Natasha merely rolled her eyes at Barton's cheek, earning a sly grin in return. Rogers, meanwhile, had turned his focus back to Nadine. Nadine met his serious look with an impassive one of her own.

"Still, we have some questions for you. We need to find out who has put a hit out on Romanoff, and we need you for that. You're our only link to whoever is behind this. It might not be long before they come after the rest of us," the soldier said stoically, his hands shifting to rest on his hips. Barton snorted.

"Could you see them trying to go after Banner?" Hawkeye stage-whispered, a faint, mocking laugh in his voice. Natasha spared him a disapproving glare while Steve shot him another pointed look. Barton sobered instantly this time.

"I can. That's why we need to know."

It was then that Nadine broke in, surreptitiously shifting again: "as curious as I am myself, I still can't go to New York."

In a single, rapid motion, Nadine rocked back onto the balls of her feet and launched herself up into Roger's middle, her shoulder driving hard enough into his gut that he grunted thickly in pain and shock. With a sharp jerk, she snapped the last remaining tie around her ankles, flowing into a swift, spinning kick that collided with a harsh smack across the Captain's face, knocking him back off his feet.

She barely had time to right herself as Barton leapt forward to engage her. But Nadine was quick and Barton was still processing his surprise despite his lightning-fast response. Given the confined space they were holed up in, none of them had been truly expecting her to make any sort of serious escape attempt much less start an all-out fight, leaving them all caught off guard. Even as she turned aside his strikes, she managed slide a hand around him to snatch up his sidearm before hooking a foot around his ankle, sending him careening into the bulkhead with a ringing thud. As he shoved himself upright from the wall, she drove a solid kick into his chest, propelling him backward to topple on top of a recovering Rogers as their legs tangled.

And then she was ducking as Natasha swung around in one of her own powerful kicks, just barely missing Nadine. But the blonde was anticipating Natasha's attack, expecting nothing less than for the redhead to leap into action herself despite the way she blanched from simply lurching to her feet, her fresh injury severely hampering her. Sliding around the redheaded spy to snatch up a second handgun and back out of her old friend's reach, Nadine's third kick slammed out into Natasha's side just above her gunshot wound, sending her stumbling back into the bulkhead with a cry of pain.

The entire confrontation was over in the span of a few heartbeats.

With one of her stolen guns leveled steadily at Natasha and the other at the two men only just managing to untangle themselves, Nadine straightened, barely even needing to catch her breath. Natasha stared at Nadine, gasping around the ribs Nadine likely bruised, compounding the flaring pain from her previous wound. Nadine resolutely stared back. She tried desperately to ignore the way her heart was hammering, panicked in her chest or the way her throat wanted to close as her finger seemed to fight her head's order to tighten on the trigger. But the green eyes fixed on her, unreadable and intent, to batter against her resolve.

"You don't have to do this, Nadya," Natasha said softly as she leaned back against the bulkhead, her hand rising to clutch at her now doubly injured side as the other raised non-threateningly. Nadine shook her head, nearly snorting out a bitter laugh that Natasha of all people could believe it was that simple.

"Everything I have, everything I care about, is at risk if I don't complete my mission," she ground out, threads of desperation warring embarrassingly with uncertainty in her voice where there should only be cold, detached purpose. But the Heckler & Koch and the Glock were steady in her hands nevertheless. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Rogers and Barton hovering warily, each waiting for even the smallest opportunity. The Glock snapped to Barton as he began edging away from Rogers, forcing him to abort whatever he'd been thinking of attempting. Rogers just stared at her with his hands loose and ready at his sides, studying her intently. Yet he made no move to regain control over the situation. It made Nadine faintly uneasy that he was just…waiting.

"There has to be a solution. I know you; if anyone can figure this out, it's going to be you," Natasha said, her voice strengthening as she recovered her breath, free hand still raised passively, "you were one of the best when we were girls, and you're the best now." Nadine fought against the way her eyes threatened to slide shut in anguish, keeping them fixed on Natasha as a hard, desperate voice in her head urged her to end it, reminding her what was at stake; Nina.

But that didn't help either.

"You don't know me anymore, Natasha. You don't know what I have to protect. You don't know what I'm risking by even considering—" her mouth snapped shut angrily at the realization. She was actually _considering_ going against her mission. A trace of a frown appeared between Natasha's eyebrows as she studied Nadine back.

"You can tell me," the redhead nearly whispered, "we used to talk. You were the only one I could talk to. Talk to me. We can help. We can protect whatever it is—" Nadine nearly choked on the emotion welling in her throat, cutting Natasha sharply off.

"You can't. I can't risk it," she finally said tonelessly.

"You have a family, don't you," Barton questioned gently, drawing more of Nadine's attention away from Natasha. Nadine didn't allow herself to react. But something flashed in Natasha's eyes, something too quick for Nadine to identify.

"I have a life that belongs to _me_ ," she hedged, her voice just as icy as before even as her anguish seeped through it, "something I had to fight to even dream of. Something that is more than _this_." The guns twitched in her hand to illustrate precisely what she meant by 'this.' It wasn't a denial and neither was it a confirmation. She couldn't bring herself to be honest, not when she held a gun on the closest person she'd had to a little sister with every intention of pulling the trigger.

"We can help," Nadine's eyes snapped completely to Rogers. She nearly laughed, a strangled huff all that escaped her throat as a brittle smile laced with derision stretched over her lips before she tamped it down, her face and voice going equally blank.

"You think you can succeed where I failed? Tracing people, finding people when no one else can? It's what I do, what I'm good at; all I've got to show for trying to find my way out of this trap are dead ends." Rogers' hands had risen to mirror Natasha's, held out to her in placation.

"You didn't have some of our resources," he countered carefully.

"You didn't have J.A.R.V.I.S.," Natasha added. Nadine frowned in bewilderment as her grey eyes shifted back to Natasha, though her aim still didn't waver. "And you didn't have us." Steve took the blonde assassin's continued hesitation as a sign, taking a slow, measured step forward as his teammate spoke. Nadine's eyes sharpened back on him even as her aim on him did.

"You know we can help you," he said, confidence breaking through the cautioned way he said it, "if you won't let us help protect whoever it is you're protecting, at least let us help you find who's behind it. If we can find and stop whoever is pulling your strings, it'll solve everyone's problems; no more hit on Romanoff, no more threats over your head. We can all go home, free and clear."

For the first time her aim wavered. He sounded so sure, so confident that they could do it, that by working together they could end this. God, it was so tempting. If she agreed and it worked?

Nina would be safe.

The moment dragged on for an eternity as a war raged inside her head, the benefits battling against the risks.

With two soft clicks, she lowered the guns.

If working with the Avengers meant that her daughter would finally be truly safe?

That was worth the risk alone.

Sharply, she nodded in agreement.


	11. Chapter 10

**Russia**

**Winter 1996/97**

As Nadine lay back on her narrow bed, eyes sliding shut, the aches and pains she'd been ignoring all day returned in full force. It was bad enough that as she forced herself to relax, a pained whimper was startled out of her before she could manage to swallow it back.

Her entire body ached. It had all day. It had taken almost every ounce of concentration she'd had to make it through her dance routines first thing, her leg muscles trembling and cramping, muscle memory virtually the only thing getting her through the complex sequences. Her mind had felt like little more than mush as they'd gone through the day's chosen language tutoring; German today. Even their weekly session on Stealth and Covert Operations and Detection Avoidance Techniques was a struggle, and it played to many of her strengths; it was a good thing today hadn't been the Psychology, Dissembling and Interrogation Methodologies session—one of her weaker areas of study—or she might have been in serious trouble…certainly in more pain.

It had been the same with the training that had taken up the rest of the morning. By the time midday had come around, she'd already felt worked to the bone. Her head had been pounding in time with her racing pulse and that left her feeling dull and hazy, fighting back shivers that threatened to shudder across her skin. And the additional abuse her body had suffered during the daily sparring matches against first the other girls and then the Winter Soldier had only intensified it all. Bruises and abrasions littered her body, patches on her arms and legs quickly turning a deep, vibrant purple-black, their development accelerated by her faster than normal healing. Her cheek itched and ached, a deep scrape painted across her cheekbone from a particularly vicious kick from her remaining group-mate Katerina.

But all of it was nothing compared to the bone-deep ache suffusing her entire body with a brutal persistence. Even her throat still throbbed, the metallic taste still coating her mouth that always followed screaming her throat nearly to shreds.

But the Treatments were no excuse for not performing during their training. During her sharpshooting session early that morning, two of her shots had gone slightly wider than her typical pinpoint accuracy when her hands had spasmed; one of the many lingering after-effects, like her raw vocal chords or cramping muscles. It had earned a disapproving look from the old veteran KGB sniper the Red Room brought in to train the girls in distance sharpshooting. Nadya was his star pupil, even when fighting the after-effects of the Treatment, but that also meant he judged her against a far higher standard for it.

Later that afternoon, Madame B noticed Nadya falling short of her usual standards as well, and subsequently it meant she got to face even more pairings during the sparring that afternoon. She had faced the Winter Soldier alone three times, the last match earning an actual frown from the Training Mistress despite Nadya managing to hold out against him just as long as she usually did—though, in retrospect, perhaps that was precisely why—but it was going to take more than a simple beating to break her.

Regardless, Madame B had not been pleased when she'd called Nadya aside to review her performance report that evening, though she had mercifully ceded that the Treatment had been a higher dosage than was typical; it was as close to letting Nadya off the hook for not living up to her regular standards as she was likely to ever get.

Thankfully, the after-effects would fade quickly enough, likely by morning. But for now, it just left Nadya feeling miserable.

Next to her, Nadya felt the edge of the thin mattress of her narrow bed depress. Without even bothering to open her eyes she shifted, making room for the slight girl settling herself next to her. She didn't even have to look to know who it was. There was only one other girl in the Red Room with a close enough relationship with Nadya to do such a thing.

Her head angling to rest against Nadya's shoulder, Natalia stretched out next to her, linking their arms loosely together. It was nice. It was a few, quiet moments where Nadya could almost pretend they were normal girls, like the ones they saw in movies or read about in the books their instructors had them exposed to in order to prepare them to assimilate and disappear among regular people…if they were able to survive long enough to be set loose on the world, of course.

For a few, quiet moments, she could pretend they really were sisters, that she could keep Natalia safe like a big sister should. That she wasn't alone in the world.

She could almost feel Natalia staring at her in concern. It brought a twitch of a smile to her lips, or at least, it would have if even smiling didn't seem to hurt. "I'm fine, _lisichka_. You don't have to watch me like I'm about to drop dead." Natalia made an exasperated little noise at the endearment as befitted a young, teenage girl when faced with affection. But she relaxed at Nadya's side nonetheless, even if she didn't look away from her silent study of her older friend.

"You don't look fine. For a few moments there, I thought Madame B was going to have the Winter Soldier—" For all that each girl in the dormitory was a hardened killer or well on the way to it, Natalia had a hard time saying what had flashed through her head earlier that day. Nadya knew exactly what she meant, too.

In her third fight against the legendary assassin, Nadya had been all but sure she'd been about to die, especially when his metal hand had clamped with crippling force around the back of her neck as he slammed her into the ground. He'd been ordered to finish very few girls in his time testing the Red Room recruits—only two so far—while other past trainers had been responsible for far more kills; but then, their abilities had been more in line with the girls' own, unlike the Winter Soldier who was far and beyond.

But in that last fight, Nadya had been certain that her life had been about to end.

Nadya had known Madame B was growing less and less pleased with her as the days and weeks passed. The blonde recruit was beginning to grow beyond her instructor's influence and her will becoming harder for the Training Mistress to bend as Nadya started to see through the indoctrination and expectations she'd been raised on. The day before, she hadn't so much hesitated when the order to kill another of the older girls was given —Yanna this time—but demonstrated her condemnation of it by not complying immediately. She had ultimately done it anyway, as she knew openly defying the Training Mistress was a foolish thing to do, but she had exhibited that she no longer mindlessly obeyed. She was becoming unpredictable in her convictions—for one, she was beginning to have convictions—and that was something Madame B was wary of.

But Nadya couldn't just simply be killed during the course of her training anymore. Not as she could have been in the past. Not easily. None of the other recruits could beat her anymore, not even Katerina, who had once been the best close-combat fighter the Red Room had. The Treatments had seen to that. It was only the Winter Soldier who could best her anymore. Where Nadya had once been viewed with potential, Madame B was beginning to see her as a liability, and they both knew it.

But getting rid of her was no longer simple. Since the Treatments were working on Nadya as they had on few others, there were great expectations for her now from those above Madame B, and Nadya suspected that things would go poorly for the Training Mistress should she approve the Winter Soldier to finish off their only successful test subject.

Nadya's eyes opened as she turned her head to look over at her almost-sister. She forced a faint smile to her face at the troubled look that greeted her, ignoring the fear hiding in the familiar green eyes.

"I'd have had to do a lot worse than I did today for _that_ to be necessary," Nadya assured the younger girl with affected certainty. While Natalia was the one with the uncanny ability to lie without even the barest hints of doing so, Nadya was no slouch at it herself and Natalia believed her, those sharp green eyes and the keen mind behind them satisfied that they'd picked up no trace of falsehood. But then, Nadya had to wonder if that was thanks to her dissembling skills or Natalia's fervent desire to believe her. But right now, it wasn't important either way.

But then Natalia's eyes narrowed, her gaze oddly considering as she looked to Nadya, one slender eyebrow quirking curiously. Nadya frowned, suddenly intrigued about what had brought about such a look. When the younger girl didn't break her silence, obviously working on organizing whatever it was she wanted to say, Nadya nearly sighed with exasperation, shifting to her side to face the younger girl head on. Natalia's brow furrowed faintly, revealing that whatever she was thinking of was perplexing her.

"It's the Winter Soldier. Earlier—when you were training against him—whenever he was called off, especially the last time, he…well, he…" she trailed off, her frown deepening as she struggled to properly articulate what she wanted to say.

"He…" Nadya prompted, a trace of reprimand in her voice. Nadya was trying hard not to sound too impatient despite her curiosity, her headache threatening to shorten her temper. Natalia pursed her lips before making a small sound of impatience with herself at being unable to find the precise words she wanted.

"He looked—confused. Conflicted, even." she whispered uneasily. That wasn't what Nadya had been expecting. An uncertain little flutter materialized in her belly.

"He—what?" Natalia nodded, her eyes troubled and puzzled. Nadya fought back a thick swallow as the younger girl began to elaborate.

"Whenever he let you up, as he backed away, his face went—I don't know—I'm—I don't know how to put it better than 'conflicted' or 'confused.' Usually he always looks, well—"

"—lost—" Nadya supplied absently, her eyes no longer focused on Natalia even though she was still looking right at her. Natalia nodded in agreement, her own gaze distant.

"—exactly; lost, blank—when he's not fighting or being ordered around he looks lost…but when he was looking at you after being called off? He looked confused, disoriented and—troubled." Nadya was barely listening anymore, her thoughts retreating to the look Natalia had described.

While she hadn't seen it during their fights, she had seen it later.

The Training Mistress had been speaking with the Winter Soldier's primary handler, the solid oak door of her office firmly shut when Nadya had answered Madame B's summons to discuss her performance. Nadya had known better than to knock and so she had stood, still and silent, for her turn to come.

Just like her, he had been waiting beside the door. The Winter Soldier had stood as stock still as she had, hands loosely fisted at his sides, shoulders not quite squared and stance relaxed but ready. His head had been tilted forward slightly, his long hair hiding most of his face save for a narrow strip not quite covered by the tousled dark strands. His one visible eye had been just as blank and virtually uncomprehending as she had come to expect during his time among them, staring with no real focus down toward the floor. She'd unabashedly allowed herself to watch him; to stare, really. She'd had little opportunity to do so properly outside training and she hadn't been able to deny that she'd been wanting to.

Right from that first day she'd known there was a measure of attraction on her end toward him, physically speaking. Her subconscious had demonstrated that amply, the silent soldier making his way into her dreams, even. It was hard to ignore and hard not to see why. His body was athletic, imposing and a prime specimen of maleness that Nadya found fascinating and immensely appealing, and the powerful yet agile way he moved didn't help matters any. Remembering the feel of those broad, hard muscles had been hard to forget, even when the memory of them came from fighting him. His long, dark hair and stubble did nothing to detract from the strength of his features, adding a rugged appeal to his already handsome face.

And his eyes…she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to see something, anything, in those eyes, to see them come to life. The flicker of consciousness in them that had come out of his rage and shock as they'd focused on her the day she and Natalia had brought him down had been electrifying. Like the pure physicality of him, she still hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

Even standing before Madame B's office she hadn't been able to help but play over the memory as she examined him, eyes tracing his long legs, the broad shoulders and solid chest clad in dark tactical gear, or the appealingly muscled arm that managed to measure up to the impressive metal arm that mirrored it. She hadn't even dared to admit to herself that she had been all but devouring him with her eyes, hungrily taking him in.

Not even when heat prickled across her skin as she noticed the single steel-blue eye visible through that dark curtain of hair staring right back at her.

Her breath had frozen in her chest as his gaze focused on her, a flicker of concentration and confusion struggling against the obedient emptiness that was programmed into him. Her own eyes wide, she hadn't been able to move as silent, halting steps had brought him closer, his face blank and unreadable despite the struggling traces of awareness in his eyes.

But then the faintest of creases had appeared between his brows. Abruptly he'd looked unsettled, the expression barely—just barely—surfacing on his features amid the blankness, joining the confused shadow in his eyes.

Conflicted, Natalia had said. Nadya hadn't thought to label it so at the time, but it was a far better way to describe the expression she had seen as he'd looked down at her than what she'd come up with outside Madame B's office; not that her mind had been working particularly well just then, anyway. And the look had only deepened as he had reached up to ghost his fingertips over her skin, tracing the already healing scrape across her cheekbone.

A shiver had skittered through her at the touch, her skin warming in a way that hadn't been altogether unpleasant. Looking back on it, Nadya couldn't help but wonder if the concern she was sure she'd seen had actually been there or if she'd only imagined it.

But then the oak door had opened and his hand had dropped from where it had been brushing lightly against the fine strands of her pale hair that had been framing her face.

"Nadya?" Natalia's soft, questioning voice jerked her thoughts back to where they belonged, on the younger girl looking questioningly up at Nadya, "what do you think it meant?" Nadya had to fight to keep from clearing her throat nervously, her cheeks beginning to warm traitorously. Natalia's eyes narrowed, seeing far more than Nadya would have liked. "It meant something. Or—did something happen?" She was suddenly a bundle of curious energy, her eyes brightening as they focused intently on Nadya. "Tell me," she hissed excitedly. Nadya gave her a disparaging look. Its effectiveness was debatable, as it didn't deter the redhead in the slightest.

"It probably meant nothing," Nadya finally whispered back, ignoring the last question altogether. "There's no telling what goes through his head when he's not following his handler's orders, if he's able to think any of his own thoughts at all." She couldn't help how sad she sounded articulating the idea. "Still, it's probably nothing." While agreeing in part, unlike before Natalia wasn't the least bit satisfied with the answer she got, a faint, wicked smile curling her full lips.

"Tell me everything," she insisted again, "what happened?" An exasperated sigh escaped Nadya, but so did a grudging grin. It wasn't like they hadn't whispered conspiratorially about the Winter Soldier before. Just about all the girls in the dorm had at one point or another and it wasn't hard to figure out why; they didn't get very many attractive men in the Red Room, and they were still teenaged girls despite their training to become the world's deadliest killers.

"He looked at me," she whispered, the words spilling hesitantly out, "and I think he actually saw me."

And she told Natalia everything.


	12. Chapter 11

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

Both Rogers and Barton eyed Nadine warily as she lowered the guns, not that she could blame them. But they didn't react further, save to look to Natasha's lead on how to handle this newest development. Nadine was nearly tempted to laugh. It was incredibly clear on Barton's face that he didn't trust her in the slightest despite his odd bit of insight to her situation, and Rogers was barely able to withhold his own caution any better.

Visibly gritting her teeth, Natasha levered herself up from where she'd landed against the bulkhead to make her way back to the central portion of the aircraft, Barton shifting to place himself between her and Nadine, a steadying hand rising to brace against the redhead's back. With a short head tilt and a calculating look, Rogers gestured for Nadine to follow the two spies.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., think you can lend us a hand?" As Nadine stepped past Rogers, projections and consoles were beginning to light up the interior of the aircraft even as a disembodied voice answered Natasha.

"Of course, Ms. Romanoff. What is it you require?" Natasha glanced to Nadine.

"We're looking to track down whoever is blackmailing Ms.—" it was Rogers who spoke, turning questioningly to Nadine as he did. She hesitated before steeling her nerve and replying.

"Rykova. Nadya Rykova," she offered, "though I go by Nadine, these days." Rogers nodded in absent acknowledgement, if not thanks.

"—Ms. Rykova, alias 'The Ghost'. Whoever is doing so is the one who put out a hit on Romanoff."

"Certainly, Captain Rogers. I will be pleased to provide any assistance." Immediately information began flashing through the cabin as the highly-advanced program began pulling everything he could find on Nadya Rykova and The Ghost. It was incredible what he was finding and how quickly he was finding it, accessing databases and information the average person would need days, even weeks to dig through or even access. And he was doing so in seconds; her birth records, information on her parents—both of which were supposed to be long erased—even top secret records and stats from her time as a KGB recruit in the Red Room, likely leaked with the HYDRA/S.H.I.E.L.D. file dump nearly a year before; plus information on The Ghost—confirmed kills, success rates, known clients, communications, online discussions concerning, the works. It was with no small bit of satisfaction that Nadine saw no evidence of her life as Nadine Ryker coming up in conjunction with her birth name, or either of her names with that of The Ghost; further confirmation that she had done a good job hiding herself away.

But it also baffled her. If a system as sophisticated and proficient as this one seemed to be couldn't make the link, how on earth had someone else?

Then J.A.R.V.I.S. began organizing and mapping out her professional life, listing her past confirmed targets and even a few unofficial ones before systematically tracing and linking them to clients, establishing chronologies and discerning patterns. It was astonishing. Nadine was one of the best in her field and working up something like this would have taken her weeks, if not months or even years of dedicated work and intensive research.

And truthfully it had. She had done all this already, trying to figure out something, some link, some trace that would lead her to her blackmailer.

"I have pulled everything I could find on Nadya Ivanovna Rykova and The Ghost. Thus far, I have isolated four targets in the last eight years that appear to have been contracted by the same unidentified party. Between the security measures enacted by both Ms. Rykova and the unidentified client to hide their respective identities and financial records, there is unfortunately not enough for me to go on without obtaining more data or avenues by which to establish a trace.

"Without additional information and more refined search parameters, there is little more I can accomplish." The disembodied voice finished, sounding almost apologetic. Nadine scanned what he'd managed to come up with for her blackmailer; it was no farther than she'd gotten herself. In fact, she had gotten farther…not that that was saying much. Nadine sighed, shooting Natasha a disheartened glance. For a moment, she'd hoped…

"And if you had full access to the financial records of one of the involved parties?" Nadine's gaze snapped to Rogers with alarm. Surely he wasn't suggesting—

They did realize the only reason she had survived for as long as she had was because of how secret she kept her life, right? And now they wanted her to dump everything about her professional life into the open for this strange program to dissect and project for all to see?

"It's possible, Captain Rogers. The additional data provided by transaction records, even limited as that data might be as a result of different international laws and banking practices, should provide the necessary links to initiate a trace back to the original accounts and potentially on to whomever is behind the blackmailing."

"And what about private correspondence? IMs? Emails? She had to communicate with whoever this is. Could there be a way though those?" As her gaze jumped from Rogers, Nadine's features couldn't seem to decide whether to glare angrily at Barton for his input or look at him with wide-eyed astonishment that bordered on panic.

"Perhaps," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, "If used in conjunction with financial records, including data retrieved from Ms. Rykova's methods and avenues of communication with the unknown client, their addition should greatly improve the likelihood that I will be able to successfully triangulate whomever is behind it." The three Avengers looked to Nadine. She could only clench her jaw, willing herself not to instinctively take a step back under their combined scrutiny. Slowly she shook her head. Natasha seemed to understand exactly what was going through Nadine's head, why she was so dead set against offering up what they all so blithely seemed to expect her to share.

"We need those records, Nadya," she said softly, her green eyes sympathetic even as they were insistent, "I know it's not an easy thing to agree to, but it's our only chance to find this guy."

"Not easy?" Nadine countered with bitter skepticism, "you're asking me to give you everything I have, all The Ghost's secrets." A frustrated glimmer appeared in Natasha's eyes, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"Not all of them. Not your personal ones. Not even all of the Ghost's secrets. Just transaction histories and communications with whoever put you up to a hit on me. That's all we need for J.A.R.V.I.S. to triangulate this guy's location." Nadine's jaw clenched again. She supposed it was possible to isolate such things. So much of her professional life as it existed digitally was already heavily partitioned…it was one of her many security measures. Besides, there was nothing of her secret life, no connections whatsoever, on or even accessible through her Ghost accounts. Nothing about Nadine Ryker. Nothing about Nina. Just The Ghost's life. But there was a lot there too…trails back to her Workshop, her safe places, her contacts, her suppliers. After a long moment, a faint groan escaped Nadine as she realized she had already come to a decision.

"Fine." Reluctantly pulling out her Work phone from its place on her utility belt, Nadine held it out before her. Satisfaction surfacing on Rogers and Barton's face and relief on Natasha's, the redhead held out her hand for the device. But at the last moment, Nadine snatched it back just out of her reach. Natasha shot Nadine a disgruntled look, but the blonde assassin ignored it.

"Just what pertains to finding this guy," she amended, "no poking around in anything else; correspondence and financials as they pertain to those four hits. That's all I'm going to allow access to. No digging around in anything else, not even trying, or I won't allow access to a thing." The female Avenger turned to the Captain, a silent exchange passing between them before Rogers gave a minute nod.

"Agreed," Natasha said as she turned back to Nadine, "you got that, J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Understood, Ms. Romanoff." With an impatient gesture, Nat waved Nadine forward to a set of consoles built against the bulkhead with an actual physical interface, nodding in silent encouragement for Nadine to do her thing.

"You can plug in over here and from there give him access," she prompted, "all you'll have to do is disable any security measures and he'll do the rest." Still reluctant despite admitting to herself that it was their best chance given how much more sophisticated J.A.R.V.I.S. was compared to her means of attempting to trace her blackmailer, Nadine sat herself down in front of the consoles. Forcing in a deep breath to bolster her resolve she leaned forward, absently wondering just how intuitive and interactive the system was.

Dismissing the thought, she settled on simply using the physical interface, and, once she'd linked her phone to the network with the hardline, she was quickly pulling up her own network before entering her passcodes and bypassing her security measures to the areas she'd agreed to share, allowing J.A.R.V.I.S. access as she'd agreed, pulling up both her Ghost financials and the messages she'd received over the course of the exchange with her mystery puppeteer…save the first one in its entirety; except for the target docket which she had saved elsewhere, it was long gone, Nadine unable to stomach keeping it. It was too inflammatory, both in the inherent risk from the attachment's very existence and the reaction it always sparked in her.

No sooner had she done so, then he was taking the lead, sifting through and analysing the data as Nadine looked on, keeping her astonishment carefully hidden from showing on her face as the U.I. dove into her financials and communications. But it wasn't long before her focus sharpened wholly on the task at hand, her thoughts on J.A.R.V.I.S.'s abilities fading to a mere afterthought as she watched the program work, periodically inputting her own contributions and supplying her own search parameters, algorithms and observations from her previous work on tracking her blackmailer.

After a few minutes of working with the U.I., Nadine straightened from the console and let J.A.R.V.I.S. continue on with his in-depth analysis, Barton whistled low. As Nadine turned, she realized he was looking over her most recent transaction history, namely the final payout from her last contract and the deposit against her taking the hit on Natasha; it had been deposited before she'd even agreed to take on the contract. They hadn't even allowed her the illusion of deciding anymore.

"Lucrative enterprise you've got there," he muttered under his breath, "I think I'm in the wrong line of work." Rogers, meanwhile, raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Nadine nearly chuckled. Even Natasha looked faintly stunned as she took in the numbers J.A.R.V.I.S. was displaying as he combed through her device for digital trace evidence.

"Hunting other assassins is not easy work, and neither is it in any way without a great deal of risk. More than that, it goes a long way to helping stay hidden from the world. And you haven't seen some of my overhead costs." Those, like the accounts that she used for looking after her Workshop, J.A.R.V.I.S. thankfully did not have access to; they were safely compartmentalized elsewhere, protected by another firewall and set of encryptions. She was not interested in revealing even the slightest clues about her safe places, especially given how far this J.A.R.V.I.S. seemed to be able to run with any such clues.

But before anyone could comment further, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s actions became far more purposeful rather than the nearly chaotic-looking search of a moment before. All four of them, Avengers and Nadine alike, watched the primary section of the projections as J.A.R.V.I.S. mapped out every move he made through proxy servers, firewalls, false leads and reroutes to edge closer and closer to their target.

"Had I not been permitted access nor been allowed some of Ms. Rykova's insights, I doubt I would have been able to analyze and triangulate Ms. Rykova's activities as The Ghost. Thankfully, it would seem the measures her blackmailer took to hide his identity and activities are not quite at the same level of sophistication as Ms. Rykova's."

"I should hope not," Nadine grumbled impulsively to herself, earning an almost amused glance from Rogers, "Not with the work I put into them or what I shelled out for what I couldn't do."

"Additionally, there was just enough geographical and user information hidden within the metadata of some of the contract dockets that, when combined with the location tracing algorithms and backtracking programs developed by Mr. Stark and myself at my disposal, I was able to trace their activities back to one Sergey Andreevich Azarov." As the U.I. spoke, the data he'd been able to collect on the man was projected in dizzying profusion; financial records, personal background, education, medical records, online activities, photos, everything.

"Azarov…" Nadine all but choked out the name, her eyes narrowed with irate astonishment. Natasha frowned, glancing to Nadine.

"That name certainly rings some bells," she muttered, earning a confused glance from her teammates.

"You know this guy," Rogers asked. Natasha turned to him, an expression on her face that said 'not really, but sort of,' even as she made a half-hearted gesture of confirmation. But J.A.R.V.I.S. was already continuing before she managed to actually say anything.

"His older brother, Mikhail Azarov, was a rather successful agent of the KGB, one who, during the intelligence release during the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D., was revealed to have had ties to HYDRA. It was well known throughout the intelligence community that he was one of the KGB's mid-tier assassins until he himself was killed. It is generally believed, though not conclusively, that he might very well have been one of The Ghost's first assassinations." J.A.R.V.I.S. highlighted Mikhail on the timeline he had worked up elsewhere in the projections as he said as much. "Indications suggest that Sergey Azarov took his brother's death quite poorly." Natasha, glanced over to Nadine again, her eyes wide and questioning. By that point, Nadine had her arms crossed over her chest, her hand raised to pinch the bridge of her nose. But she saw the glance out of the corner of her eye and, surmising what it was asking, simply nodded grimly.

"It would appear Sergey Azarov makes his living brokering illicit business arrangements, acting as a middleman for black market deals among a variety of other illegal activities up to and including low- to mid-level assassinations," J.A.R.V.I.S. filled in further. "It is highly unlikely that he is the brains behind the Ghost's hits, merely the facilitator, though it is probable that he is the one behind the actual tracking and contact of Ms. Rykova, given that his talents and background seem centered around computer sciences and such similar services, all of which he provides as part of his work as an intermediary. Who, precisely, he is working for is less than certain, though it appears to be different from his usual arrangements, as his fees are significantly lower when they correspond with the contracts sent to Ms. Rykova than other instances even though logic dictates they should be higher given Ms. Rykova's reputation and status within the Intelligence and black market For-Hire Communities." Rogers sighed before turning to Nadine.

"So you pissed this guy off and now he's got it out for you." Nadine shrugged in response to the Captain's assertion.

"It was business; I was hired to go after Mikhail Azarov, so I did. I'll admit I had no qualms over it because of the kind of man he was, but I didn't go after him on a whim."

"He was a real piece of work," Natasha interjected dryly, "he was brought in by the KGB when I was in training as a—well, let's just call him a guest instructor." Nadine nearly rolled her eyes; that was certainly putting it mildly.

"Someone wanted him dead," she continued when Natasha finished, "so they paid me to do it. It's the kind of thing Sergey Azarov will be very familiar with since it looks like finding people to do all sorts of dirty work for other people who are willing to pay for it is what he does."

"Sounds like a rather unpleasant family," Barton said conversationally, looking like he was fighting back a look of revulsion as he flipped through some of the files J.A.R.V.I.S. had pulled up on Mikhail. Nearly in unison, Nadine and Natasha made matching sounds of agreement.

"From what I could tell, though, they weren't exactly close. Ultimately, though, Sergey did end up being the link I needed to track down Mikhail; I had him under surveillance on the long shot that Mikhail would contact him. Eventually he did, and I was able to track him back to his hide-away in Moldova, not far from the Ukrainian border."

"So how did Sergey find you?" Natasha looked over to Nadine, who was peering up at the information on Sergey Azarov with keen, thoughtful eyes "It's not like you were easy to track: even J.A.R.V.I.S. was having trouble until you started helping him out." After a moment, Nadine met her old friend's calculating gaze before stepping forward to the projection and, following Barton's example, highlighted and enlarged a portion of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s research with a pointed gesture.

"No idea," she said mildly before her voice grew hard as the last known address of Sergey Azarov was featured and translated to a point on a map, a ruthless, cunning grin emerging on her face, "but I intend to find out."

As the two female assassins caught each other's eye, Natasha's grin swiftly grew to match Nadine's.


	13. Chapter 12

**Russia**

**Winter 1996/97**

With a final, spinning move, Nadya ducked beneath Katerina's guard and overturned the other girl with a calculated twist to slam her hard into the packed snow beneath their feet, cracking the layer of ice that lay hidden beneath the frigid white blanket. A hollow cry wheezed from Katerina as the wind was knocked out of her, a puff of breath condensing in a thick mist as it gusted past her pale lips. Nadya's own breath panted out in thick, misty clouds in the subzero temperatures of the Russian winter.

Around them, lips were beginning to turn blue and shivers were being suppressed as the other girls stood around observing, their own matches having been completed. Their endurance and resilience in harsh conditions was merely one other facet of their training. Nadya didn't quite feel the cold the same way as the others anymore, but even she was beginning to suffer from the chill despite her physical exertions and enhanced metabolism helping to keep her warm.

Katerina glared up at her, her expression bordering on murderous at being beaten. Once it was hard for Nadya to beat the last remaining girl from her group, Katerina being the best of their group at hand-to-hand combat and ruthless and underhanded to a degree Nadya and the others couldn't quite match. Nadya glared back, knowing her eyes would be cold and hard as they stared down at her groupmate. She would be well within her rights to kill the other girl. She glanced toward Madame B.

The Training Mistress stood just as motionless and emotionless as usual, seemingly unperturbed by the cold that gusted over the roof of the Red Room's mansion. She gave no indication, though, of instruction. But the look in the older woman's eyes, even veiled as they were, had Nadya wary. There was no trace of approval anymore. Had Katerina managed to beat Nadya, it was evident that Madame B wouldn't have batted an eye.

And that Katerina would have received a slight, minute nod.

No, had she not won the match, it would have been the end of Nadya.

She turned from her winded groupmate. Just beyond the gathered girls, a handful of men were approaching, the Winter Soldier among them. Nadya withheld a groan. She was starting to wonder if Madame B really was just trying to kill them all. Surely they had all had enough for today. Already a few of the other girls were beginning to show signs of hypothermic reactions to the cold. And their Training Mistress wanted them to keep training?

As the girls all looked on with varying degrees of visible trepidation, the Winter Soldier's primary handler strode forward to speak with Madame B, his voice low enough that it was stolen by the wind before it could reach anyone save the Training Mistress. But whatever he said, she was having none of it. Looking rather displeased at her immovability, the handler, Karpov, nevertheless turned and gestured sharply. This time Nadya actually groaned, guessing what it meant.

Yet, despite anticipating it, she was just barely able to evade the Winter Soldier's first lightning fast blow, but wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the second, grunting in pain as his elbow caught her side as she dove in for the attack.

She was beginning to get really tired of Madame B subjecting her to becoming this man's punching bag in the name of training…

Eventually, though, it always ended the same way. With a hard thud, a crunching of snow and ice and an angry cry that was forced from Nadya's throat, he had her slamming into the frozen surface of the roof they used for training that day, pinning her on her back, one arm twisted behind her, the other crushed beneath his as he braced his arm across her chest, keeping her immobilized.

Knowing she was beaten, Nadya let her body go loose, indicating she yielded as best she was able with the arm his hand was closed around even as she still glared up at him. But he didn't let her up right away.

The air seemed to grow thick and charged between them, Nadya's skin warming wherever his hard body pressed against hers. Unbidden, heat began to flood through her as he stared down at her, his steel-blue eyes unusually intent on her startled grey ones. She swallowed thickly, trying to slow her racing pulse, suddenly thrumming in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. As she did, his brow furrowed, a distant, puzzled expression coming over his usually blank, unreadable face. His darkened eyes dropped to her lips, which she knew were parted from panting in the aftermath of their fight. He shifted, turning away from where he'd been pressed against her, holding her legs pinned. A gasp was startled from Nadine as heat began pooling in her belly, her body reacting unbidden to the stirring she'd felt against her thigh before he'd canted his hips away.

With a jerk he wrenched away from her, retreating to stand near the edge of the sparring area, his face once again blank and eyes empty and cold, though they flickered with uncertainty.

Nadya was frozen, stunned as the heat beneath her skin refused to abate, though she felt suddenly cold without him close, a shudder skittering through her body. It took Madame B's sharp admonishment for her to quickly pick herself off the packed snow that served as their sparring surface.

As Nadya took her place among the other girls, easing back behind the others, she pressed a cold hand to her suddenly hot cheek.

She certainly hadn't expected that.

Karpov was once again whispering furiously with a stoic and silent Madame B, looking rather irate at the older woman. Neither did she look entirely pleased with whatever the handler was saying. Her thin lips pressing thinner, Madame B turned abruptly away from the handler.

With a sharp nod the girls were dismissed and the older woman glided past them all to descend back into the mansion that housed their training facility. His lip twisting derisively, Karpov was quickly following after her, his companions trailing behind, pushing past the girls that were already trying to retreat out of the cold themselves.

Even though there was no formal order to the way the girls filed from the roof, they nevertheless organized themselves instinctively by group, with the youngest present that day—the group below Natalia's—already having disappeared inside and the eldest ones taking up the rear; the only ones left from the oldest group were Nadya and Katerina.

It also meant they were the last two girls left on the roof.

And Nadya should not have turned her back on the other girl.

With a silent snarl, Katerina had lunged for Nadya the instant the last girl had disappeared inside, a razor sharp shard of ice flashing in her hand. Had it not been for the way her nerves were already almost painfully on edge from what had just transpired between her and the Winter Soldier, Nadya never would have reacted in time, and the knife-like shard would have buried itself in her side. As it was, Nadya was barely able to dodge back and away from the other girl's attack, narrowly missing the ice as it stabbed toward her belly and slashed past her throat. Her blood steamed as several drops were sprinkled onto the snow from the shallow gash Katerina nevertheless managed to open on her stomach, gleaming and vibrant red against the stark white.

Nadya didn't allow herself to react to the searing pain that flared from the jagged cut. With a nimble twist, she dropped and flashed a leg out to catch her heel on Katerina's shin, nearly toppling the other girl. It was a stumble Nadya took full advantage of, spinning again to catch Katerina in the side with a sharp kick before grabbing and wrenching her arm and hand back, dislodging the thick ice shard. While she might once have been the best in close quarter combat, Katerina no longer held that distinction. In a heartbeat she had recovered but it wasn't quite quickly enough, Nadya having spun around behind her, pinning Katerina's arm sharply behind her back and driving her forward into the solid brick wall that held the door back into the mansion. The other girl thrashed against Nadya's hold, fighting angrily to loosen Nadya's hard grip.

"I will get you, Rykova," Katerina snarled, jerking and twisting in Nadya's hold, "I won't let you kill me first."

"What makes you think I _want_ to kill you," Nadya snapped back, "if I'd wanted you dead, you would be dead, Zhirova."

"And that's your mistake!" With a sharp jerk, Katerina wrenched herself free to slam an elbow into Nadya's face, a white-hot shard of pain flaring across her face as her lip split, before Katerina whirled to knee the blonde hard in the stomach. With a gasp Nadya stumbled back, letting herself fall and using the momentum to roll herself away from the other girl and into a more solid stance. But Katerina had leapt into action the instant Nadya had let go, and as Nadya straightened, the other girl was lunging forward to drive Nadya into the wall, drawing a cry from the blonde as her cheek was ground abruptly into the wall, her forearms scraping painfully across the rough brick as she struggled to push herself back. But before she had managed to right herself, Katerina had latched onto Nadya's back, her arms around Nadya's throat as she wrenched the blonde around, twisting her off her feet into the hard-packed snow.

With a snarl of her own, Nadya's arm snaked around to grab hold of Katerina and, with a fluid motion, was twisting her way free just as the other girl had done mere heartbeats before. With a sharp jerk, she had loosened Katerina's grip and lashed out to drive both feet into her torso, sending her attacker flying backward…

…right into the waiting arms of the Winter Soldier.

Anyone else would have been surprised, but he just looked blankly from one girl to the other. He barely glanced at Nadya, but he seemed to study Katerina for a moment before his flesh hand flashed out to clamp around her throat. But Katerina was still worked up and in the heat of her fury. Just as his fingers were about to close around her neck, she was already moving to evade him, just barely able to wrench herself free from his vise-like fingers. But she was so caught up in her rage that she lashed out at him in frustration at being distracted from her fight with Nadya. It was not a smart thing to do. It took only a couple deft moves and he had her flying back toward the door.

Nadya was in a state of shock as the Winter Soldier watched in silence as Katerina stumbled to her feet and reconsidered her assault. With a final glare to both of them, she was retreating back into the mansion.

It was only then that he turned to Nadya.

Under his fathomless gaze, she pulled herself to her feet. A sharp gasp escaped her though, as the movement tugged painfully at the ragged gash just beside her belly button. Her hand clutching at the wound, her own blood hot on her cold-numbed fingers, she leaned against the wall with an uneven pant, sneaking a glimpse beneath her now red-stained palm; it was already beginning to heal.

But then his hand was over hers, adding pressure of his own to the injury. Startled, she looked up, her breath catching as she realized just how close he was standing. Heat radiated off him, warming her even as the brick at her back tried to leech away her body heat. He was looking down at where their hands met on her side, the crease between his eyebrows faint but distinct as the conflicted expression returned.

After a long, uncertain moment, his metal hand rose, brushing back her hair from her face, gently tugging the strands from where they were clinging to the scrapes Katerina had left on her face. His fingertips, the metal chilled from the merciless winter air, traced down the column of her throat, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature. The space between them suddenly grew charged again.

As she watched his face while his fingers grazed over her collarbone, her heart was beginning to race again and her skin was suddenly tingling with anticipation. His eyes fixed on hers, the steel-blue darkening as he looked at her with an expression oddly close to trepidation.

Her knees suddenly feeling weak, her free hand rose nearly of its own volition to brace against his solid torso. His breath hitched, his eyes sliding shut as her fingers clutched at the thick fabric. It was only as she registered the sound that she realized she was unconsciously trying to pull him closer, leaning in toward him as she did. The space remaining between them grew smaller yet as he stepped forward to answer her silent entreaty, nearly but not quite pressing their bodies together. A shuddering sigh passed through her as he leaned forward, his head dipping to nuzzle against her jaw, his breath hot and inflaming against her skin. It felt almost as though she were in a dream.

Nadya could barely believe what was happening as the heat began to pool again deep in her belly. An involuntary moan sighed out of her as he pressed closer, their bodies flush against one another from knee to chest, his muscular form hard and arousing from sheer proximity alone. An almost painful sensation of want tightened to life deep in her abdomen at the unmistakable stirring against her hip.

Her hand slid up his chest to curl around his neck, pulling herself against him, her head falling to the side as his head dipped lower, the feel of his lips so close to her skin tormenting her to distraction. She gasped breathlessly as his mouth latched, hot and insistent, against her throat, her teeth clamping down on her lip at the lancing heat that went through her at the sensation.

With a groan, he shifted against her, bracing her higher between him and the wall, not only gaining better access to her neck, but also aligning his hips with hers. Instinctively, her legs parted around his thigh and before she could stop herself, her hips had rocked into his, pulling a deep, primal groan from him that shuddered through her own body. The desperate heat intensified at the friction of his body against hers. Panting, she clutched at his shoulder, her foot sliding against the wall behind her as she searched for leverage. She wanted more, lust searing uncomfortably through her veins as she ground against him, unashamedly wanton as she struggled to sate the unfamiliar and suddenly frantic desire he'd woken in her. A small desperate sound escaped her as the coiling tension deep in her belly tightened far slower than she needed it to.

There was no telling what would have happened next had a voice from beyond the door into the mansion not called out for Nadya. It snapped them both from whatever was happening between them. With a jerk, the Winter Soldier pulled away from her, eyes wide and conflicted—even apologetic?—though his hand stayed pressed against her own where it covered the gash on her stomach. It startled her from the haze of arousal clouding her thoughts, his reaction utterly bewildering to her. After a moment of staring down at her, a war between the blankness and awareness beginning to surface in his eyes, he blinked hard, eyes finally squeezing shut as he was caught up in the monumental struggle.

When they opened again, the expression was gone, leaving behind only a faintly perplexed look shadowing his characteristically empty expression; his programming had won out. Hesitantly, he drew his hand away from her side, looking mildly down at the traces of her blood that had seeped onto his fingers.

Without another look, he turned and disappeared inside.

A shuddering breath shook from Nadya's chest and, utterly bewildered and painfully frustrated, she let her knees buckle beneath her. With a heavy sigh and a heavier mind, she sank down against the wall into the snow, her shirt catching on the rough brick as she did so. She barely noticed, still feeling the lingering sensation of his mouth on her skin and his body pressed against hers.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chernivtsi, Ukraine**

**Spring 2015**

It took a fair bit of convincing, and some rather skilled manipulation on Natasha's part, but Rogers and Barton had ultimately been brought on board with the idea to go after the remaining Azarov brother immediately, without going to New York first to regroup.

They didn't have time to spare, she'd insisted, something that Nadine had wholeheartedly agreed with. After all, who knew what sorts of flags Sergey had built into his communiqués with Nadine or into any files relating to him to warn him if he was being tracked online. The sooner they went after him, Natasha had pointed out, the less chance there was that he'd make a break for it and disappear. Plus, she'd added, someone was still metaphorically holding a knife to Nadine's throat, and there was no telling how long before whoever was pulling her strings made good on the threats they'd used to coerce The Ghost into doing their bidding. A mix of relief and chagrin had flashed through Nadine when Natasha had said that, but outwardly she'd allowed herself little reaction to Natasha's bluntness beyond a simple nod of agreement.

But that relief had faded quickly as they had landed on the outskirts of Chernivtsi, Ukraine. It wasn't far, all things considered, from the small town just north of the Moldovan border where Nadine had traced Sergey Azarov to years ago in her search for his brother Mikhail.

Then came the planning. It was there that J.A.R.V.I.S. once again proved his worth, providing them with an incredible influx of information about the building, the surrounding area and even confirmation that there was someone in Azarov's apartment; presumably Azarov himself. From there, Barton—their eyes and their cover—had been sent out to get into position. Meanwhile, Rogers and Natasha continued to look over the intelligence J.A.R.V.I.S. had provided, talking over strategy and making a tentative plan to some extent, but mostly it was Rogers trying to convince Natasha to stay behind, concerned by the risk presented by her injury.

As the pair of them bickered, Nadine nearly groaned in aggravation, still bristling from the way the Captain had been trying to give her orders. Her! Orders! She worked alone. She always had. The only reason she wasn't alone now was because she'd been foolish enough to get caught. Then again, she wouldn't have traced her blackmailer back to Azarov at all if she hadn't been…so grudgingly, she withheld the urge to give the chiselled Captain a solid smack to make her opinion of his orders known. She was not an Avenger. He was not her Captain. She didn't follow anyone's orders unless they coincided with what she wanted to do.

And right now, she saw her opportunity staring her in the face. As Barton was off doing what he did and Natasha disputed Rogers' call, Nadine slipped away. She was not interested in waiting to have a little talk with Sergey Azarov.

Besides, she was quite certain he would have things to say that she didn't want anyone to hear but herself.

Getting out of the Quinjet had been easy; they'd left the ramp open, so it was just a matter of walking out without them noticing. Nadine knew how to keep from drawing attention to herself. Years of training and honing that skill first in the Red Room and then as The Ghost on top of her natural talent meant that silent steps and unobtrusive movement came easily to her. Natasha and Rogers didn't even notice.

Getting to Azarov's building unseen was also easy; she'd paid close attention to J.A.R.V.I.S.'s breakdown of the area surrounding the building and the structure itself with the Avengers, so she had more than enough to go on, her route locked in her head before she'd even left the Quinjet. So getting to the building and slipping inside virtually unseen was simple enough. The few cameras, alarms and locks were quickly taken care of, especially as J.A.R.V.I.S. had already bypassed the more advanced tech Sergey had put up. Once she was inside the apartment, it was even easier. It was a tiny, dark little place, with a main living space complete with almost forgotten kitchenette, what was likely a little bathroom and the bedroom which, considering how the bed was in what would normally be the living room, was used for something completely different. In that she was certainly correct.

So when she cornered Sergey Azarov in his bedroom-turned-computer lab, panicked and in the process of deep-sixing his system's harddrives and memory, she'd been prepared for the not-so-easy part.

But now that was turning out to be pretty easy too. Subduing him had been straightforward, his surprise and panic working to her advantage; she hadn't even deemed it necessary to restrain him, her presence more than enough to keep him frozen in the chair she'd all but hauled him back to after he'd tried to run. While questioning him hadn't initially been quite so easy, it still hadn't taken nearly the amount of effort she'd expected. A little flirting, a little touching, along with some flattery, some bluffed and real logic mixed in with a healthy measure of intimidation and topped off with just the right dose of pain and she soon had him turning away from the outright denials he'd opened with before he'd even realized he'd done so…he certainly was nothing like his brother.

Mikhail had been hard, cunning, brutal and ruthless. He'd been a man that was made to be an assassin and a spy. He'd been one of the ones brought into the Red Room to test the girls on their resistance to interrogation; the man had liked hurting people. He'd had no qualms about killing those who failed his tests in the Red Room. Despite all the hard lessons and harder teachers Nadine had faced during her training, Mikhail Azarov had been one of the few instructors she'd genuinely learned to hate in that place. It was probably what made deciding to go after him all those years ago as easy a decision as it had been.

Sergey was proving quite a different sort of man. While perhaps just as detached from the concept that people were more than just names or bodies as his brother had been, and perhaps even as ruthless—certainly as cunning and smart, at least intellectually—Sergey was not so hard nor so sadistic as Mikhail had been. His place was behind computer screens, brokering contracts, writing algorithms and matching agents and hired guns with clients. He didn't have the training to withstand a real spy's interrogation, not when that spy had been trained in the Red Room…and by his own brother.

Yet there was one thing he was being reticent on.

"You've already admitted you didn't find me entirely on your own, and you admitted you were supplied a great deal of the material that was being used against me. Really, I don't know why you aren't giving me the name to go with everything you've already spilled. If you're afraid of retribution? Of someone coming after you for it? Well, you've already shared more than enough for that. What more do you have to lose?"

"The difference between a quick death and a drawn-out one," Sergey bit out peevishly, though there was a subtle, anxious waver to his tone. Nadine restrained the hard smile that she was tempted to show him, instead settling for a patient, understanding one as she settled herself on his knee, draping an arm around his shoulders. He was tense from a mix of fear and interest that nearly amused Nadine. He was proving irritatingly predictable. She gave him an honest-looking, level look.

"Whether you tell _me_ or not will mean the difference between a quick death and a drawn-out one, Sergey." He swallowed thickly, his pulse quickening, this time with fear. She smiled again. "You of course know what I'm capable of—you've seen the images you were told to send to me, as well as the video footage I imagine was included as well—just as you also know what Natasha Romanoff is capable of. You had to know I was close with her once." His face had begun to blanche, growing more sickly even as his jaw tightened as a means to restrain the urge to give in and simply tell her. Nadine stood, walking behind him, her hand lingering on his shoulder.

"You know it was Natasha Romanoff—also known as the Avenger Black Widow—that you tried to blackmail me into killing, right? She didn't really take too kindly to the idea of a hit on her, and she wants to know almost as badly as I do who was behind it all. And if you think working with the 'Good Guys' has caused her to go soft? Well…she was always much better at interrogation than I was…" She leaned in over his shoulder, peering at his profile as she let him come to his own conclusions about what she meant by that; a most effective technique. His eyes flicked nervously to her. "I managed to get here first. But I can't imagine she's likely to be far behind." She let the statement hang in the air. His eyes had fixed on where her hand still lingered. When he still didn't speak she allowed herself a sigh.

"I'm impressed by how well you're holding out," she baited, angling to lure him into overconfidence to weaken his resistance, "but you have to know I will find out. Really, you had to know all along that I wouldn't be held off from tracing this arrangement, in part, back to you. If not after this assignment, then after the next, or the one afterward." He snorted, the sound almost derisive if not for the fear in it. She purposefully narrowed her eyes at him in inquiry. One thing she had noticed was that he rather enjoyed proving what he knew. The right pressure and…

"Of course I did. How could I not know you'd eventually trace it back to me? That's why I had assurances. Promises of protection." Nadine shrugged lazily, goading him on.

"Hasn't done you much good."

"You were never supposed to make it this far." Nadine's eyes narrowed for real this time at the way he said it, circling around to face him again, bending down so she able to look him straight in the eye. All pretence of softness was gone as she fixed him with a hard look. He nearly started, and Nadine was belatedly gratified by the unconscious shiver that ran through him.

"Explain," she demanded softly. Dread appeared in his eyes and after a heartbeat of indecision he violently shook his head. She allowed another sigh. And she put the hand still resting on him to good use.

He tried to snarl defiantly at her, but it only came out as a whimpering grimace. "Because you weren't supposed to make it out of the latest assignment," he whined out. Nadine eased back. Sergey let out a huff of relief, eyeing her warily. "You were set up for failure on this one, Madame Ghost; Black Widow alone, your reputation suggests you could handle if you could get beyond your past with her; you'd be an even match." When he hesitated, she tilted her head, and he took the gesture as a warning, continuing quickly. "But against the Avengers? There's no way. They'd take you out, take you in, whatever; you'd be out of the picture. If you had managed to take down Black Widow first, that would have been a bonus. But the idea was always that the Avengers would have gotten you out of the way." Nadine frowned with mistrust. It made no sense; she was useful to this blackmailer as The Ghost. They had a Master Assassin in their back pocket they could whip out whenever they had need of her. They even gave themselves a hefty discount when she was engaged, thanks to the leverage they had on her. And the risk inherent in the Avengers getting their hands on her? Well, her presence in Azarov's apartment showed just how much of a risk that had been…

"To what end?" she pressed. He shrugged in denial, but there was a glint in his watery eyes that told her he did know. She didn't have to do more than twitch, a mere suggestion of what she was willing to do again and he jerked with panic.

"He wants your daughter," he blurted, eyes wide and rolling as they fixed on her hand again. Nadine froze, her breath catching painfully in her chest as her own eyes went wide with shock and dread of her own. It took a moment before she was able to speak, her throat closing as her mind struggled to wrap around what he'd just said. It was almost enough to override her years of training to stay utterly focused on her task.

"Explain," she choked out. He shuddered, tearing his eyes away from her to squeeze them shut.

"I—I don't—I'm j-just—she didn't—" he stuttered dejectedly, "—you're not the only one in someone's p-pocket." She didn't doubt it, not that it really mattered to her just then. With those few words, Nadine was abruptly past caring, his admission nearly throwing her into a state of enraged panic. Her fingers tightened when he tried to clamp his mouth shut again.

"I don't know," he shrieked, "she didn't tell me why! Only an offhanded comment about you and her father and that making her a perfect candidate when I got curious and tried to find out more. But for what I don't know! All I know is that her boss, her partner, whatever he is, needed you out of the picture so he could get to your kid. He couldn't get to her with you around."

"She? He," Nadine ground out. He looked up to her again in terror at what he'd let slip. A desperate grunt panted out of him as he scuttled forward, trying to dart around her. She might have rolled her eyes in any other circumstance, but she was far too desperate. He barely managed to make it out into the main room before she overtook him, a deft grab and twist sending him flying into the threadbare carpet. As her hands latched onto his shirt, pulling him around to face her, he whimpered, his eyes showing he was done evading her questions. And he took a shuddering breath.

Then everything happened at once.

With a shuddering crash, Rogers all but barrelled his way through the front door, the wood nearly exploding into a shower of splinters, Natasha not far behind.

And with a delicate crack and gusting thump, a single hole was punched through one of Sergey's blacked out windows.

Nadine's training served her well; where another's pulse might have started thundering, panicked and stunned, in their ears as they jerked away from the threat, Nadine's pulse and focus were steady and her head clear despite her very real shock. Before she could react further, there was suddenly another body nearly crashing into her as the sound of another high-calibre round ricocheting off metal rang in her ears. But her grip didn't loosen on Sergey Azarov and neither did her gaze.

Sergey choked and gurgled horribly, blood beginning to gush up from the bullet hole that had ripped through his lungs to dribble thickly from his mouth, garbling his voice. But that didn't quite keep Nadine from understanding what he said. Her mind raced, her disbelief quickly overwhelmed by fury.

"Zhirova," he coughed out, the blood coming faster as he struggled to draw enough breath for the second name. With a final, wet rattle he went still, the name seeping out with his last guttural breath:

"Strucker."


	15. Chapter 14

**Russia**

**Winter 1996/97**

Sleep had eluded her as restless anxiety kept Nadya's mind from settling. It was why she found herself in one of the mansion compound's nearly forgotten rooms on far end of the third floor, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest, ignoring the cold that seeped through the old paned window she was looking out of. It was too cold for snow, and there was a harsh sharpness to the moonlit landscape of the winter night that suited Nadya's current mood just fine.

The torn, fretful state her earlier encounter with her Training Mistress had left her with refused to abate. It certainly didn't help that, anytime her memory came close to reviewing precisely what she had all but been ordered to do, her anger and agitation came back in full force.

She fully intended to defy their wishes. She might have been raised to be morally flexible, but that didn't stop the whole situation from sitting wrong with her. But then, she was finding that was happening more and more frequently in the Red Room as she began to see past the indoctrination and conditioning to be blindly obedient to orders built into her training.

Her troubled thoughts were one factor of many that had led to her slipping from her narrow bed, leaving behind the rows of identical beds and their sleeping occupants for the sanctuary of the abandoned room that had served as her temporary refuge many times in the past.

Another was born out of the very distracting set of memories that revolved solely around the Winter Soldier. She couldn't get him out of her head and it was driving her to distraction. Her body remembered clearly the way he'd touched her up on the roof, winding itself tighter than a bowstring with want as her subconscious worked hard to wake the desires she'd been trying so hard to suppress, trying to stir the heat beneath her skin again. And she easily remembered the way he looked at her; she could have sworn there was something there that hadn't been up until then, some trace of humanity—even a trace of who he'd been before—that had managed to survive against the concerted effort to erase it completely.

But when she encountered him the next day, it was as though the incident hadn't happened. He was just as blank and uncomprehending as before, paying her no greater mind than he had any other day in the couple weeks he'd been working with them.

A faint sound jerked her from the pair of vivid memories that had been trying to reassert themselves; the memory of his mouth on her skin, his hard body flush against hers…and the memory of Madame B's blunt, withering assessment of him from that afternoon, the words echoing through her thoughts: _It defies his purpose for him to exhibit any trace of freewill. The point of the Winter Soldier's programming is to erase everything that was there before, to leave only the perfect soldier behind. He can exhibit no true freewill because there is no freewill left in him._

Knowing what would happen were she to get caught out of bed, she pushed her thoughts aside, unfolding herself from her perch and slipping toward the door, careful not to make a sound as she did so.

It was then that she caught sight of a cot tucked away in the far, shadowed corner of the room.

It pulled her up short with confusion; this room was rarely used, and yet now it was a place where someone had been assigned to sleep, a set of makeshift quarters? A shiver of unease went through her as the back of her neck prickled with the sudden sensation like she shouldn't be there.

But just as she was about to move, a hand closed around her arm, pulling her back…a cool hand. A metal hand. She whirled around, instincts surging forward to lash out with a strike that would have been too fast for any regular person to react to. The Winter Soldier was far from a regular person, though. With an almost lazy gesture, he caught her fist and turned it aside, effectively trapping her against him as he did so.

The makeshift quarters were his.

Normally, she would have struggled, her hands even rising to grip at his sleeve in preparation to do so, but the sound of movement outside the room they occupied had her instinctively falling silent even as she anxiously waited for him to reveal that he'd caught her breaking curfew.

Minutes passed and the sound of patrolling footsteps faded. But he didn't move, standing just as silent and attentive to the retreating steps as she was. And then they were inarguably alone. Unexpectedly, his grip loosened.

She looked warily up at him. It was that moment when the memory of her earlier meeting with Madame B chose to reassert itself, making her mouth go dry and her stomach roil unpleasantly as she studied the object of that conversation as he stood before her, close enough to touch…close enough that they were touching. _It is because of his alleged display of will in your presence that this measure has been deemed necessary._ The older woman's nose had wrinkled a bit, as though unimpressed that she'd even had cause to make such a statement. But otherwise, she had shown little hint of her own opinion on the matter. _He is becoming—erratic, unruly even._

Nadya hadn't quite followed where the Training Mistress had been going as she spoke…but the pieces had fallen together enough that she also hadn't wanted to. What she'd said to Nadya next had made what the older woman left unsaid crystal clear, not allowing for any form of misunderstanding. It had shocked Nadya into silence, her jaw even dropping with alarmed astonishment.

She had refused, struggling to keep her own controlled mask in place beneath her supervisor's scrutinizing stare. Just thinking on it now was nearly enough to make Nadya break out in a cold, anxious sweat, especially as she recalled the frigid, nearly cruel smile that had curled the corner of Madame B.'s mouth. _Whether you agree to do this or not; it is of little matter to me_ , the Training Mistress had said with an absent wave, the hard glint in her eyes making Nadya grow cold. _I will not order you to do it._ _The decision is yours. But remember, no decision, right or wrong, comes without consequences_. Her meaning had been clear enough. But despite the fear that churned in her gut at that trace of a smile, Nadya had resolved to face the consequences she knew would come of her refusal.

Yet…standing here? She had been presented with an opportunity…she could just…she shook her head at the thought, hating herself for thinking it at all, for even considering it.

She searched his features for even the slightest hint that he wasn't just the mindless soldier Madame B and his handlers insisted he was. He was staring past her, steel-blue eyes just as blank as always. Her breath shuddered as she inhaled, her nerves warring with her discomfort and her untimely yearning.

Her hand relaxed where it still lay on his arm, the solid warmth of him beneath her palm and the proximity of him beginning to quicken her pulse even as the adrenaline borne from her surprise faded. His gaze turned toward her at the change in her touch, the crease between his brows appearing at the easing pressure of her fingers. She ran her palm slowly up his arm, skimming up his bicep and across his shoulder until it came to rest on his firm chest. It was an unconscious move, one she hadn't even willfully decided to make. The heat beginning to run through her veins intensified, revelling in the forbidden contact.

But he barely seemed to react at all, pale eyes following the path of her hand as her own did before lifting to look at her, a flicker of uncertainty in them. She sighed heavily, knowing she should pull away but unable to just the same. She met his perplexed gaze. Hesitation had surfaced in the steel-blue depths, but little else.

She knew it was wrong, this attraction between them—what did that make her if she still wanted something to happen despite his compromised mental state? How selfish and monstrous was she because of it?

But she was already a monster, wasn't she…to have survived as long as she had in this place?

She had to be.

But even forcefully reminding herself that the Winter Soldier wasn't in complete control of his own mind didn't keep her body from humming with desire at the very thought of being with him.

"Do you even know what's going on? What they want me to do? You were there; you heard the assignment. Do you even comprehend where you are…who you are?" The whispered words had spilled out before she could stop them. His frown deepened as he stared back at her, the conflict she was beginning to think of as familiar finally appearing. It did little to alleviate her unease. She fought back a shiver as his hand lifted to her cheek, brushing back a few strands of her fine hair. In that moment he seemed so unaware, innocent even, as he looked down at her…not at all like one of the deadliest assassins in the world. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure he had understood her; she'd never heard him speak, and the few words she'd heard spoken to him during his time among them were in Russian, not English.

Her hand rose impulsively to his cheek as she mirrored his gesture, brushing back his own dark hair. His stubble was rough against her fingertips as she laid her palm against his jaw. His eyes hadn't left hers, growing more conflicted with each passing moment even as they began to darken with a desire that matched her own. His brow furrowed deeper while his hand curled around the back of her head. He leaned closer. Nadya's body was humming with traitorous anticipation, her breath catching in her chest.

"Do you even want this?" As before, when she spoke it was little more than words forming around an escaping breath. And, as before, she expected little response.

But then his lips crashed into hers, hot and insistent, almost desperate as they met her own. She was so caught off guard that she gasped, her mouth parting beneath his. As his tongue delved deep to meet hers, the dull heat that had been simmering beneath her skin erupted, threatening to consume her as it blazed through her body. The taste of him was intoxicating and before she could even properly process that he was kissing her, she was hungrily kissing him back, her arms winding around his neck. Her fingers clutched at his hair as she pulled him closer, wanting to feel more of him against her.

One of his hands was just as tangled in her own blonde hair as his mouth left hers to burn a searing trail down her throat. His other arm snaked around her waist, pressing her harder against him before trailing lower, latching hard onto her hip.

She was so caught up in the feel of him against her, his mouth devouring the sensitized skin of her throat, that she barely even realized her tugging hands and his insistent steps had backed her up against the wall, pressing her almost painfully against it. But being pinned by him, trapped between the unforgiving wall and his hard body only stoked the scorching want growing wild between them. Her fingers clutched harder at him, digging into his shoulders through the thick material of his gear, her other hand pulling hard at his hair as she yanked his mouth back to hers.

He complied without hesitation, and his hands lowered further to tug her nightgown out of the way so he could reach the bare skin of her thighs. She whimpered as his fingers dug into her flesh and with a groan he had her hitched up against him, bracing them both against the wall as her feet were lifted from the ground.

All coherent thought had long fled, leaving her a creature of lust and desire. There was nothing gentle to her want, nothing tender, nothing careful, and neither was there in his. It was primal and it was frantic and the need was growing so intense it was painful.

As he reached between them, a small, rational voice urged her to think through what was about to happen, to warn her that there would be no turning back.

But then he was inside her, and every remaining shred of thought, rational or otherwise, was seared away.

It was a feeling unlike any she'd experienced before, certainly nothing like the lacklustre couplings her training had conditioned her to expect. The initial discomfort of his sudden intrusion mingled with the hard ache from the intensity of her want, spiralling into a searing, white-hot pleasure as they moved against each other. The rough desperation of it somehow made the pleasure that much sharper and that much more intense, the frenzy of it threatening to burn through her even as she pleaded for more.

He took his pleasure from her, but she took just as greedily, her hands dragging through his hair and across his shoulders as she urged him on, her grip hard enough that where her nails met skin, he bled under her touch, her teeth and nails marking whatever flesh she could reach. And as his frantic pace devolved, growing erratic, her own body wound tighter still with painful anticipation, making it hard to breathe.

And then it was over. With a hoarse cry into her shoulder, he spasmed and went rigid against her. As his completion shuddered through him, it was just barely enough and she came apart against him, her whole body wrenching taut as the coil in her belly exploded, the shards of pleasure ripping through her.

It was only then, as the blistering desire burned itself out in the aftermath and her rational mind slowly returned to her, that she realized the gravity of what had just happened.

Yet even as the guilt and horror at what she'd allowed herself to do suddenly threatened to consume her, she couldn't bring herself to immediately let go or push him away, her arms not moving from where they were wrapped around him. He had relaxed against her as his breathing began to even out, his cheek still resting against her neck as his grip on her eased into something far less fierce. For a split-second, it felt—nice to hold him close, to have him hold her close. It left her with a strange feeling of emptiness as he lowered her to the ground with a bewildering display of tenderness. It was so at odds with the rough, feral fucking—as much as she hated the vulgarity of the term, it was the most fitting—of mere moments before.

Even as her eyes began to prickle with shame, she looked up to him, searching his face for, well, anything. Her physical discomfort meant nothing just then, the dull ache growing in her lower body fading from her awareness, the hot, sticky trickle seeping onto her inner thighs not even registering. She suddenly—desperately—needed to know that, on some level, he had been there, that he'd wanted what had just happened even a little bit. But the echo of Madame B's talk once again slithered through her mind, her memory repeating the exchange Nadya had been trying to escape since that afternoon, the memory of her Training Mistress' voice just as cold and ruthless as ever as it sliced through Nadya as mercilessly as any bullet or blade:

_He can exhibit no true free will because there is no freewill left in him. Yet, his handlers seem to believe that it is a mutual attraction for you that is interfering with his compliance. It appears to be a biological compulsion that even his programming can't quite eliminate._

_As such, a decision has been made to allow the Winter Soldier some—leniency in some of his behavioural restrictions, allowing him to—indulge in some of his more basic instincts._

Her cheeks had burned then as she'd realized what her Training Mistress had been implying; mortification and horror had drowned out all other reaction.

_His handlers believe that allowing him that freedom to—to work off this restless energy, if you will—will save them the necessity of having him undergo additional memory modifications. They are concerned that employing the memory modification process too frequently will have undesirable, even detrimental side-effects; it is a risk they are keen to avoid, given how valuable an asset he is. The objective is to gauge if such an allowance will resolve the issue without the need for such measures._

Too many emotions had flooded through her at once at the cold rationalization her supervisor had presented her with; shock, fear, humiliation, excitement, disgust, anger, apprehension. As she'd stood there, unable to leave, painfully aware that he had been standing in the room with them, it had seemed as though she'd felt everything she could in response to Madame B.'s plain words at once.

_Machines work less efficiently when they are not provided proper maintenance, after all; it is just so in this instance with the Winter Soldier._

When Madame B had said that, Nadya had felt physically ill at how no one else seemed to realize that, despite appearances and their apparent best effort, there was still a real person somewhere inside the Winter Soldier, that he wasn't a mere machine to be 'maintained'.

Or perhaps they simply hadn't wanted to see.

_You find yourself attracted to the Winter Soldier, don't you, Nadya; as you seem to be compatible sexually, it makes you the natural choice for this—experiment. You will be providing a service to help keep the Winter Soldier in peak condition._

Nadya had only been able to stare in horrified disbelief at the blunt, remorseless pronouncement, unable and unwilling to hide her contempt for her supervisor's opinions on the handling of the Winter Soldier from her face.

But as she looked up at him now, her pulse still racing in the aftermath of their frenzied coupling, it was her own words echoing in Nadya's ears: _I will not submit to being used as a—an outlet by a man who is allowed no will of his own. It is not what I have spent my life training for. I will not be used like that. I will not use_ him _like that._

_I will not seduce a man who has no idea what was going on._

Bile rose in her throat to choke her as bitter realization lodged in her chest, causing it to clench painfully even as hot trails began trailing slowly down her cheeks. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to curl up and die for self-loathing. Madame B had all but sneered at her assertion, her reply nearly mocking:

_Then you are naïve, Nadya. It is not a matter of using. It isn't even a matter of seduction. You simply need to be available. I am not even convinced what is being expected of you is possible, as such a demonstration of autonomy would go against his programming._

Evidently it was possible.

And Nadya had just done exactly what she'd told Madame B she wouldn't do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one brief note on this chapter's content since I feel I have to address it: This was admittedly a hard chapter for me to wrap my head around and to ultimately post in its entirety, mostly because it really does toe the line of non-con and that truly does bother me. I have no interest in dismissing, diminishing or trivializing how horrible and damaging sexual assault and the like really are in real life (especially the importance of consent) and it is definitely not my intent to do so. Again, if you have any concerns about what happened in this chapter, by all means, feel free to pm me or ask. I'd be more than happy to discuss it.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chernivtsi, Ukraine**

**Spring 2015**

Natasha's patience was beginning to wear thin as Steve continued to insist she should stay behind on the Quinjet, something she was not at all interested in doing. It wasn't like it was bound to be a particularly dangerous mission anyway. It was just grabbing a guy who sat in front of computers all day and questioning him. If anything, she should be a crucial part of the plan given that she was the expert in interrogation and hacking. She wasn't even all that badly hurt, not really. It was just a graze, and the duration of the flight and the first aid she'd gotten had gone a long way to get her back into passible fighting-form again. But if Steve was one thing, it was protective of those under his command and equally protective of his friends, no matter how capable he knew them to be…and Natasha was both. She had to fight from rolling her eyes, nearly having to force herself to keep listening to him.

She glanced over to where Nadine was standing, deceptively casual in her stance as she stood near the bulkhead not far from Natasha and Steve. The blonde assassin's face was blank and calm. Not unexpected really, given the training Natasha intimately knew the other woman had received.

Natasha still couldn't quite believe Nadine was standing only a few feet from her. She was one person the redhead had never expected to see again. Sure, she'd hoped against hope that Nadine—Nadya then—hadn't died, but it had been simply too unlikely to believe otherwise. Graduation was something that was celebrated, Natasha having already known another girl who'd managed to survive training in the Red Room by the time Nadya had disappeared. So it hadn't been that. And there had never been any indication that the blonde recruit had deserted, much less eluded anyone sent after her.

But neither had there been a confirmation nor even specific mention of her death at the compound. They had just never spoken of her again. That in itself had seemed confirmation enough that Nadya was dead. A lack of any acknowledgement from Madame B had conveyed a certain knowledge and subsequent lack of concern on her part. As such, Natasha, like just about every other girl there, had interpreted their Trainer's ambivalence as closure. After all, it was how the deaths of the other two girls who had succumbed to the Treatments had been handled. So they all had naturally assumed the older girl had died, likely because of the Treatments, and that was that.

Death was a regular occurrence in the Red Room and it was rarely spoken of as it was commonly encountered, just as one rarely spoke of the need to breathe or the need to sleep. Girls were almost never mentioned again after failing during training, almost as though their deaths erased them, making it so they never existed. And in a way, it was like they never had.

So when Nadya was never mentioned again following her disappearance, it was a logical conclusion to draw; she was dead, so there had been no point in talking about her anymore. But it had never quite sat right with Natasha to believe that Nadya had simply died, though she'd later pegged that to denial that her almost-sister was gone. Natasha had been certain there was something going on with her in those last few days before Nadya's disappearance. But then she'd just been gone, and Natasha had been swept up in the challenge to survive and succeed in the Red Room, forcing herself not to think about Nadya's presumed death or how much she missed the older girl.

She hadn't even been able to let herself grieve.

Looking back now, Natasha realized that the trainers had been a little too careful not to mention the older girl. She felt foolish now, having not recognized that the trainers had been keeping something from them; it was what she'd been trained to do and she had missed the signs. Natasha's chest tightened as she glanced surreptitiously at her oldest friend again.

They'd been like sisters. When Nadine had been Nadya she had looked out for Natasha in a place where they were all encouraged to do no such thing. The older girl had braided Natasha's hair and told her stories when she'd been young and new from the Nursery. She'd given her encouragement and advice on how to survive in the severe and often fatal training program they'd both been thrown into when they were both little more than babies. She'd teased her as only an older sister might, tossing out derisive comments with no bite and expecting, even relishing in, equally barbed but toothless retorts in return. They'd giggled together, talked about boys from the American magazines they'd been given to study. She'd snuck her a clementine or some other forbidden treat on her birthday every year. Even when she'd been in incredible discomfort and pain from the Treatments those last few months—she'd never been able to hide it from Natasha completely—Nadya had always managed pretend otherwise, especially if Natasha needed her to.

And, as was always the case, Natasha hadn't realized just how much Nadya had meant to her, how vital she'd been to letting Natasha keep a hold of even a scrap of her childhood even in that place until she was gone. Their relationship had kept her from losing herself completely, kept that small spark of goodness alive through her early training when it might otherwise have been crushed out of her, letting her hold onto it long after Nadya had disappeared from her life. It was that small remnant of her humanity lingering beneath her almost peerless skills as a spy and assassin that had eventually caught Clint Barton's attention and made him reconsider his orders to eliminate her.

It was a big part of why she was fighting Steve so hard on this. She wanted to help her friend, and yes, she was still determined to think of Nadine as her friend. Because when someone threatened her friends, Natasha was a force to be reckoned with. And Nadine was certainly being threatened. She didn't know if the blonde woman realized just how transparent it had been to the redhead, but Natasha had caught a glimpse of fear and desperation in her eyes and heard it in her voice when it had come out that someone was blackmailing her, and it had surfaced again when Nadine had finally lowered her stolen guns moments later.

So yes, she wanted to be there to help put an end to whoever was threatening whatever happiness her friend, her sister, had managed to find in her life. Natasha knew it wasn't an easy ideal to find, not for people with pasts like theirs.

"Uh, Cap?" Natasha and Steve both fell silent, their hissing argument abruptly losing steam as Clint's voice sounded in their earpieces. "We have movement in the building, inside our target's apartment, and I don't think he's the one doing the moving." Steve and Natasha exchanged a concerned look, any lingering trace of their argument fading away.

"Do you have a visual? What are we looking at," Steve asked succinctly, ever the soldier, as Natasha settled in front of the console, urging J.A.R.V.I.S. to pull up his readings on the building in an attempt to get a closer look at the new player's whereabouts.

"No. Just movement. They're pretty good at keeping me from getting a good eyeline. Looks like they're entering Azarov's wor—shit!" Natasha and Steve exchanged startled looks at Clint's sudden outburst.

"Clint? What's going on," Natasha insisted, her voice sharp as she forced herself not to sound anxious, "What's happening?" Over the comm, they heard Clint groan with aggravation.

"It's Ryker. She gave you guys the slip." The two Avengers lingering in the Quinjet spun to where Nadine had been standing several minutes before.

She definitely wasn't leaning against the bulkhead anymore.

Steve actually swore.

"I'm going in. Now," he bit out with irritation, snatching his shield from his back. As Natasha went to follow, however, he paused long enough to shoot her a firm glare. But Natasha was objecting before he could even get a word out.

"Nuh-uh. I'm coming too, Steve, and we don't have time to debate this," and she was pushing past him. She heard his heavy sigh as she strode down the ramp, unable to withhold her smirk. It only took a couple long strides for him to catch up and another to pass her, keeping her firmly behind him. Natasha nearly rolled her eyes with fond exasperation at his unconscious display of chivalry.

It took them longer than they would have liked to reach Azarov's apartment, hampered as they were by Natasha's less than prime condition, but soon enough they were approaching the right apartment, their pace quickening at a sudden shrieking outburst from behind the door of their destination.

"She's got him out of the workroom into the main living space. Something's going down; she's not paying any attention to cover anymore, guys." Setting his jaw at Clint's update over the comm, Steve burst forward, his shield ready to serve as a battering ram.

And he used it to great effect.

The door shattered under the force of his weight and momentum, and in an instant Steve and Natasha were barrelling into the apartment.

Immediately Natasha's eyes zeroed in on the dark stain beginning to seep across Azarov's chest even as her ears registered the distinctive sound of a high-calibre bullet bursting through the window. Nadine didn't even flinch, her hands tightening on Azarov's shirt as her eyes widened with shock and dismay.

Without even a moment's hesitation, Steve was leaping forward, his shield just barely deflecting a second bullet in time as he reached Nadine's side. Nadine didn't even look up, her face pale as her grey eyes were still locked, unseeing, on Azarov's now-slack face.

"Nadine?" The sound of Natasha's voice was enough to snap the blonde assassin from wherever her thoughts had retreated to, dropping Azarov's body with a sharp jerk.

"I've got eyes on the shooter; he's running. I'm in pursuit," came Clint's voice through the earpieces. Next to Nadine, Steve straightened, peering over his shoulder to the pair of bullet holes in Azarov's window as he replaced his shield on his back.

"Good. Once you've got him, bring him back. We've got questions for him," Steve responded, glancing over to Natasha. At his faint nod toward Azarov's workroom, Natasha was already on her way inside. She was brought up short, though at a furious objection from Nadine.

Turning, Natasha was met with the sight of Steve and Nadine locked in an intent stare-off, Steve's hand closed firmly around the blonde assassin's arm.

"Let go of me," she was growling, but Steve was having none of it.

"You just jeopardized our entire mission. You're not going anywhere. Barton can handle the shooter. Natasha and J.A.R.V.I.S. can handle Azarov's computers and you are going to sit here and wait until we decide what our next move is. Is that clear?" Nadine glowered at him, surprising Natasha at how transparent she was allowing herself to be in this moment. A flicker of unease went through the redhead; Azarov must have really shaken her old friend. But Nadine wasn't about to let it go.

"What makes you think you can give me orders, Captain," she snapped back, "I'm not an Avenger. Now let me go!"

"No."

"Sorry to break it up and be the bearer of bad news," Clint's voice broke in over the comm, "but this guy's toast. We're not getting anything out of him anymore. I'll send what I can get from him to J.A.R.V.I.S., but I have a feeling this guy's going to be a dead end." With another snarl, Nadine shoved away from Steve and wrenching her arm free from his grip. Natasha couldn't help but grimace as she met Steve's eye.

"It should have been me to go after him," the blonde was grumbling as she turned again to fix Steve with another sharp glare before resuming her agitated pacing, "if you hadn't stopped me—"

"Nadine," Natasha broke in, halting her friend's ranting. Surprisingly, Nadine paused, meeting Natasha's eye. Natasha nearly started at the anxious fear flickering in the familiar grey eyes.

"We copy, Barton," Steve spoke up softly behind them, "get back here. Once Nat and J.A.R.V.I.S. are done with Azarov's computers we'll wrap it up and move out." Taking the hint, Natasha retreated for real this time to Azarov's workspace.

But not before she saw Nadine sink down into one of the apartment's few chairs, her head falling into her hands.

It wasn't long before Clint had joined them in Azarov's apartment. As Natasha looked up upon hearing him arrive, she noticed that Nadine had made her way into the workroom herself, silently watching as Natasha tried to recover what she could from Sergey Azarov's corrupted harddrives as she and J.A.R.V.I.S. collected and copied what they could to comb through later.

Natasha couldn't help but grin with amusement as Clint looked around the apartment and peaked into the workroom, eying Nadine.

"Did you at least get something out of him?" The barest hint of a grin appeared on Nadine's face at the archer's question. But Natasha didn't miss the renewed flicker of anxiety that came with it. Nadine shrugged.

"With the right incentives he had a few things to say," she offered in response, but she refused to elaborate further.

Clint glanced around, catching Natasha's eye for a moment before his gaze fell back to Nadine, swallowing almost nervously. "Somehow," he said in an overly bright voice, "somehow I thought there'd be more blood, giving the screaming we heard." Nadine frowned, glancing around the room. There wasn't a drop of blood to be found save for the pool gathering below Azarov's body from the fatal gunshot wound in the other room. The blonde assassin quirked a skeptical eyebrow at the archer.

"Make a mess? How unprofessional," she responded dryly. Natasha nearly chuckled.

"It would have been nice to have a chance to question him ourselves," Steve added disapprovingly. Nadine glanced at him, and Natasha didn't miss the dangerous glint in her eye. So, Azarov had said something Nadine hadn't wanted the rest of them to hear, it seemed. But in an instant it was gone again, Nadine's expression clear and seemingly open as she shrugged nonchalantly; Natasha knew better, and judging by the way Steve's eyes narrowed fractionally, he suspected the same.

"And I preferred to have my secrets die with him," she said coolly, meeting Steve's eye in challenge. Natasha nearly gaped. She hadn't quite been expecting Nadine to answer like that. She hadn't really expected her to answer at all beyond that bored little shrug. After a moment, Steve seemed to back off, though the frustrated tension in his shoulders didn't ease. Natasha glanced to Nadine, catching her old friend's eye.

"You know, I remember you not being very good at interrogation," Natasha broke in, a trace of teasing in her voice. Nadine nearly snorted with disparagement, though her lip curled with amusement. Natasha half-expected her to roll her eyes.

"I didn't like interrogation. That didn't mean I wasn't any good at it. I may not have been the best back then, but I did know what I was doing. Which you should know. It is kind of a crucial skill in our line of work."

"Romanoff," Steve broke in, pointedly looking to Natasha to get her back on task, "anything of interest on his harddrives?" Natasha glanced to him and Clint before turning back to the computer systems arrayed around them, a complex array of monitors, modems and a variety of other hardware nearly covering an entire wall of the room in screens and blinking lights. Sighing heavily, she shook her head as Steve came forward to lean over her shoulder.

"He was definitely keeping an eye on us. But there's nothing that really stands out when it comes to the hit on me. I mean, a few recent communications about Nadine's movements, but whomever he was talking to is blocked, untraceable. But someone was certainly insistent for confirmation when Azarov passed it on that we had her. Other than that, though, there's very little I'm finding about her current contract. He managed to delete a lot and corrupt more before Nadine even got up here. He knew we were coming, probably either from when J.A.R.V.I.S. made the link to him or from when we got here.

"Either way, it's going to take some work, recovery and hard analysis before we have anything usable on this mysterious other party," Natasha

"So we still don't know who put the hit out on you or why," Clint added, having come up to stand beside Steve as Natasha spoke. Natasha shrugged turning again to face her teammates.

It was then that she noticed Nadine was nowhere in sight. Without even bothering to answer Clint she was up from the worn computer chair in an instant and was brushing past the two men out into the main room. She couldn't help the frustrated groan that accompanied her realization.

Nadine was gone.


	17. Chapter 16

**Russia**

**Winter/Spring 1997**

Winter was on its way towards turning to Spring, but any hint of warmth was still a long way off. Nadya barely noticed. She barely noticed the way the frigid, early morning air burned at her cheeks or that, even encased as they were in thick gloves, her fingertips were beginning to numb. She had been conditioned to be resistant to the cold since she was a child. Besides, she was Russian; she was practically born used to the cold.

Besides, the cold cleared her head. And right now, it was in desperate need of clearing. She was on a mission, and for that she needed her wits about her. There were far too many thoughts and emotions swirling around up there and she was failing utterly at locking them away as she had been trained.

In one way or another, they all came back to the Winter Soldier.

It was becoming a pattern that was quickly growing as tiresome as it was problematic.

After that first time, Nadya had made herself swear it would never happen again. And she hated herself all the more every time she had given in to her overwhelming desires and his over the last several weeks.

Each time had been the same; hard, rough and desperate, each encounter over almost as soon as it began. Her body always ended up littered with bruises from the force of his grip and she could see the marks on his own skin lingering into the next day, reminding her of what had transpired. Her guilt and shame always warred with the resurgence of heat through her body whenever she spied a mark she'd made, recalling easily the feel of him driving into her as she dug her nails into his scalp. Or how she hadn't cared as the sharp edge of the table he'd pushed her back over had dug painfully into her flesh, her discomfort inexplicably adding to her pleasure. The sight of his features overwhelmed with pleasure were all but branded into her memory, as was the way his low, sighing groans as he came always seemed to vibrate intoxicatingly through her.

It was easier to think of the consuming burn and frenzied pleasure than of what came after: traces of bewilderment, confusion and apology, even concern as he drew away from her, leaving her sore and panting and all but curling in on herself as guilt and remorse inevitably crushed in on her for giving in and using him so wantonly.

It was easier to think of the feel of him against her, flesh searing flesh as he touched her, as he moved inside her.

It was easier than thinking of how bewilderingly tender he always was after it was over, especially when she didn't finish along with him.

It was easier than thinking just how much closer to the surface the man trapped inside the Winter Soldier seemed to be when they stole away their scorching moments of pleasure together. But the brainwashed assassin always inevitably reasserted itself when it was over and their pulses calmed. And perhaps she was deluding herself, but since their secret trysts had started, he seemed less blank and uncomprehending than he had at first, as though part of him was fighting back against his programming and their affair was somehow making it easier.

She kept hoping that, one of these times, it would be enough that…but it was foolish. A foolish, childish, wishful thought. Still, she hoped…

But even though it was easier not to think on how deceptively close the lost person he used to be came to emerging, or how close to _aware_ he sometimes seemed, or how gentle and almost fretful he was toward her afterward, she still clung to those moments. She clung to them desperately in her secret heart of hearts as proof that he was—somehow—there and genuinely _willing_ when they were together. Her rational side insisted it was nothing more than a fanciful notion, but it helped ease the weight of her guilt, even if it was only fractionally.

It had been those secret thoughts she'd clung to early the day before, when Madame B had sent Katerina to summon her to the supervisor's office.

Somehow Nadya had managed to keep her nerves under tight control when she entered the room, tamping her uneasy fear away and forcibly restraining herself from clearing her throat anxiously. Nadya had little idea what to expect when she'd received her 'summons' but she'd expected nothing good. Part of her had anticipated at least an oblique dig at her refusal to let the Winter Soldier use her, or even an outright order that she should do so. But part of her also doubted that any such thing would happen. She had made her position very clear to her Training Mistress about that—that she had ultimately and impulsively given in was beside the point. Besides, that Madame B was sure to try and take advantage of Nadya's refusal in some way was all but a foregone conclusion. She certainly hadn't seemed overly upset about it.

Madame B's face had been just as unreadable as always. A pair of KGB administrators had been sitting in one corner of the office, watching her with veiled expressions while one of the Winter Soldier's handlers had been standing just behind the two men. Nadya had managed to stand tall under their scrutiny though, and had taken an odd sort of comfort from the sudden idea that, in a way, by inadvertently complying with their wishes, on some level she was simultaneously subverting it. At least, that was what she was allowing herself to hope…

But then a flicker of movement by her side had caught Nadya's attention, drawing her eyes from Madame B's stoic mien to where Katerina had come to stand beside her. She hadn't left the room as Nadya would have anticipated, but instead had taken her place next to Nadya. Her groupmate's features had been just as indifferent as their supervisor's…save for the smug glint in her hard, dark eyes. It was then that Nadya had begun truly fighting back a flutter of panic deep in her gut.

"Katerina," Her attention had been jolted back to the Training Mistress. "Tell us again what you saw." Nadya had nearly flinched then, though her whole body had tensed at the sudden realization of what had happened: Katerina had seen her… _with_ the Winter Soldier. A cold, prickling sensation had broken out over Nadya's skin even as she'd looked defiantly up at Madame B, hiding her panic and hoping she was the only one who noticed the way her own heart had begun racing with anxiety. Katerina had stepped forward, the smug glint seeping across her face to curl her full lips for the briefest of moments. One of the KGB administrators had shifted then, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. Nadya had forced herself to remain absolutely still.

"She was—with the Winter Soldier, Ma'am. I heard noises through an open door and when I looked inside, well, I saw them— _together_." Katerina was a good actress. Nadya had always known that, but she'd really pulled out all the stops in Madame B's office, even getting her cheeks to flush as though embarrassed by what she'd seen. But there had been no hiding the satisfied glint in her eye. Her eyes always gave her away.

There was no denying that Katerina wanted Nadya gone. That had been obvious even before she had attacked her on the roof weeks before. They both knew it was only a matter of time before one would be expected to kill the other. And they both knew Katerina was no longer a match for Nadya. Not after the Treatments failed to take in the dark-eyed girl.

They were trained to be the best; unbreakable, unstoppable and merciless. They were taught to use every weapon at their disposal. _Every_ weapon. They learned that using their own sexuality could be just as efficient in pursuit of intelligence as their wits, guns or their fists. It was a poison that they'd been taught to wield. Escorts and Mistresses to the rich and powerful—one even a former Red Room recruit who had worked and seduced her way into the confidence of a very prominently placed official in order to keep an eye on him and, if necessary, take him out—had been brought in to instruct the older girls on the skills that had them rising so high; not just basic seduction, but the arts of listening and companionship and how to inspire the intimate confidence of their targets. Their final test had been an actual assignment, plying their target with their newly taught skills and the promise of sex—sometimes even the fulfillment of it—in the pursuit of intelligence…or assassination.

So sex became nothing more than another tool for them, another weapon in their arsenal to be used to accomplish their mission, be it espionage or assassination. They learned that pleasure and desire were unimportant, incidental if it happened at all; in retrospect, that very expectation was probably a contributing factor to Nadya finding herself so rash and defenceless in the face of her suddenly very real desires. They'd learned sex was not a personal indulgence, but a tool only. It was a concept reinforced early on, especially to Nadya's group; years before, when they were still very young, one of the older girls had been caught in an affair with one of their trainers. The trainer had become the disgraced recruit's next test. And the recruit was subjected to more and more brutal tests until she broke barely days later. There had been no doubt that she had paid the price for breaking _that_ rule.

So there was no denying what Katerina had been hoping to accomplish by reporting on Nadya's meetings with the Winter Soldier. Nadya had seen it in her groupmate's sharp eyes. "Her legs were around his waist, and they were both moaning as he—" Madame B had mercifully raised a hand then, silencing Katerina's affected hesitance and unease as she reported what she'd seen. Irate disappointment a flashed across the other girl's face for a split-second as their supervisor had cut her off. Nadya had nearly smirked at the quickly hidden expression; Katerina had been hoping to see Nadya squirm.

Well, she never got that pleasure…not that she saw, at least. It was then that Madame B had turned to Nadya.

"Well, Nadya. What have you to say," the older woman had asked then, her voice frigid, her eyes narrowed critically at Nadya. Nadya had simply met Madame B's eye and remained silent. Not that she had been able to speak in that moment, anyway; her heart had been fighting for space in her throat even as it had all but closed up in dread. But then Madame B's lip had quirked.

And Nadya had instantly felt even worse than in the moment before.

"For all the vehemence of your refusal, I had little doubt you would see reason and elect to comply with our expectations. Despite the conclusion that your service had little of the desired effect, you have done well." Had Nadya not felt so stricken with guilt and shame at the misbegotten praise, she might nearly have felt a flash of amused vindication at the way Katerina's cheeks had flushed with angry humiliation as the other girl had realized Nadya had been acting with permission. She certainly hadn't missed the flash of hatred in those dark eyes as their supervisor had dismissed the other girl. Katerina was the embodiment of the cold mercilessness the Red Room fostered. She relished in her kills and her ruthlessness. That alone would have been enough to make Nadya wary of her.

But it was what Madame B had said next that had truly shaken Nadya, uttering the words that had made each breath feel like a shard of ice was slicing into her belly. Words that had abruptly and drastically changed the course of her life…especially when Madame B had explained exactly what they meant.

"It would seem you are ready for your Graduation, Nadya Ivanovna."

It was enough to send a shiver through her even now. Nadya wrapped her coat more securely around herself, shaking her head as though the action could help clear her thoughts.

Distraction was deadly. It was one of the Red Room's earliest lessons. But even as she carefully surveyed her surroundings, alert to even the slightest hint of movement while slipping into the dimly-lit garage and making her way among the parked vehicles, part of her mind remained stubbornly jumbled. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Not by memories of the Winter Soldier, not by Madame B's praise or her pronouncement…

…not by Natalia's concerned bewilderment earlier that day, after Nadya's meeting with Madame B…

Nadya had been sitting on her cot just hours after her meeting with the Training Mistress, gaze and thoughts equally distant as she clutched her knees tight to her chest. Her mind had been a conflicted minefield even then, Madame B's announcement still weighing heavily over her. Enough to make her feel even more sick than she had already.

But she hadn't been so distracted that Natalia's appearance at her side could have startled her. She hadn't even looked up, merely shifting to allow the younger girl to squeeze onto the narrow cot next to her. Drawing up her own knees to mirror Nadya's pose, Natalia had leaned against the older girl, her delicate chin coming to rest on Nadya's shoulder as she had studied her friend's face. Her presence had been a comfort, one that Nadya had been in sore need of just then.

"Madame B's not happy that you missed the dance class just now," she had said softly after several moments of companionable silence. Nadya had only nodded, acknowledging what Natalia had said. She had expected as much. "You know she's likely already considering the best way to reprimand—"

"I know, _lisichka_ ," Nadya had murmured listlessly. Natalia had given her a sharp look, revealing not only that the younger girl had suspected as much, but that she had found Nadya's tired disinterest startling.

"Then why did you miss it?" Nadya had been hard pressed to bite back her sigh even as she'd fallen back on her training to forcefully ignore the way her stomach churned unpleasantly. It was one aspect of their training—ignoring and pushing past physical discomfort—that Nadya had been finding far more useful than usual. She had also begun to find her use of it rather ironic…especially given what the techniques were allowing her to hide.

Not that she would be able to hide it much longer…

Natalia had frowned at Nadya's lack of reaction, dismissive or otherwise as she might have expected. But she had wrapped her arm around her friend while her chin still rested lightly on her shoulder.

"What's going on, Nadya?" Nadya's eyes had slid shut at the question as she had pushed her conflicted thoughts and nearly solidified plans aside. She'd turned to lean her forehead against Natalia's with a faint smile. But the action had only caused the younger girl's frown to deepen. Shifting, Nadya had proceeded to loose an arm from around her knees to wrap around the redhead, placing a kiss on the younger girl's forehead.

"It's nothing, _lisichka_ ," Nadya had assured her, "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

She wasn't. Not even close. No. She was scared and she was desperate. She had been then, she was now.

After quickly disengaging the driver mechanisms so she could open it manually, the garage door slid open almost soundlessly. It was a bonus of the facility being so immaculately cared for. That being said, there was still no way opening one of the bay doors would go unnoticed.

Just as one of the vehicles leaving the facility without authorization definitely wouldn't go unnoticed. An alarm was probably going off somewhere.

Nadya had very little time. But she had been trained well. She knew to move quickly and she knew precisely what she was doing. As she retreated into the garage, no longer quite so dim with the door open, her instincts truly began to take over, her mind switching tracks from jumbled and conflicted to coolly rational.

She couldn't afford to doubt herself. And she couldn't afford to hesitate.

But Nadya's heart still nearly stopped even as her hand latched onto the handle of the car she had decided on.

The barely audible sound of a scuff across the concrete floor crashed across her awareness like a gunshot. Her fingers tightened painfully around her bag even as she prepared to toss it into the car. Slowly she turned, her whole body on high alert and balanced on the razor's edge of readiness for either fight or flight.

Only to sag at the sight of _him_ standing almost impossibly still between her and the open garage door, watching her with his emotionless steel-blue eyes. All instinct fled, leaving Nadya feeling suddenly more uncertain and vulnerable that she'd ever felt in her life.

She'd been caught.

She'd failed.

Her eyes began to burn as her breath felt like it was being squeezed from her lungs, taking every trace of confidence with it. The Winter Soldier just watched her in silence.

Had it been anyone else to catch her…

For the briefest of moments, her head tried to find a way to get out of this; fight him, reach for the gun on her hip and try to shoot him, try to outrun him…hell, even try to seduce him to give herself a chance to make a break for it… compromised as it was, her conscience openly rebelled at the last thought, nearly convincing her stomach to join in with its objection. But more than that, she found she couldn't bring herself to settle on any of them. She had no will to fight him.

Besides, her rational mind supplied, even if she had wanted to, she had no chance against him. The Winter Soldier was faster, stronger and likely had orders to retrieve or kill her that she knew no amount of sly reason, quick talking or attempted seduction would be able to dissuade him from.

For all the effect she liked to believe she'd had on him, he was still the perfect soldier.

The only way to stop him would be to kill him.

And even if she wanted to, she knew she was no match for him.

They stared at each other, breath misting in the frigid air wafting into the garage.

And then, silently, he was taking a step forward, then another. As he drew closer, Nadya tensed, struggling against the tremor of fear threatening to break through. That fear sparked her instinct to find an escape again, her bag dropping to the ground as her hand instinctively went for her sidearm. But it withered in the face of his approach just as it had at his appearance. Part of her knew she should be trying anyway—better to go out fighting, to at least try to win her freedom—but another part of her, a grimly pragmatic part, knew it would be futile. Another, smaller part still, insisted it would be deserved…a relief even. A hot trail slid down her cheek as he came to a stop before her, the moisture burning coldly on her skin in the frigid air. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear looking at him as the familiar wave of guilt rose through her.

But then his thumb brushed across her cheek, and Nadya's eyes shot open to stare at him in shock. It was such a tender gesture, so concerned despite the lingering blankness in his eyes that warred with his familiar bewildered look, that more tears soon followed. Men born to be killers did not wipe away tears. And now her attempt to run was going to force him to kill her. For that, she hated herself all the more. Her eyes slid shut again as she struggled to keep any more tears from falling.

"Go." Nadya jerked at the rough murmur, barely comprehending at first that it had come from him. As her gaze latched onto his, her mouth fell open in astonishment, her chest clenching at the myriad emotions suddenly surging through her at that one, hoarsely-spoken word. It had sounded almost painful to say, as though he hadn't spoken in a long while, or like the effort to get it out had been immense. His jaw clenched as he looked down at her, something flickering in his gaze. Her breath hitched as she realized what was warring so forcefully against his programming.

The concern and apology—the _awareness_ —written in his eyes was enough to send her tears spilling over again as a tiny, persistent—and wholly undeserved, a small, virulent part of her hissed—sense of relief went through her.

And then he simply turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the garage, one hand still wrapped around the handle of the car door and the other on her gun.


	18. Chapter 17

**Vienna, Austria**

**Spring 2015**

Even as she pulled her headphones out, keys already in her hand, Nina was tugging her phone from her pocket to check—again—for any missed messages or calls.

Still nothing.

Not that there realistically would have been anything anyway.

When her mom had texted her the night before, she had said it might be a couple days. And when she said that, it usually was a couple days before Nina heard from her again. It was the way things were with her mom. But that never stopped Nina from hoping to hear from her anyway. She couldn't help it. Nina and her mom were all the other had. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. No matter that Nadine always insisted there was nothing to worry about, Nina couldn't help but worry.

And it was always the worst in the first twenty-four hours.

With a sigh she tucked her phone back into the back pocket of her jeans—again—before letting herself into the front foyer of the apartment building she and her mom had lived in for the past several years.

For the longest time, Nina had believed they would never stay in the same place for long. The pair of them had moved around Europe every year or so, bouncing around wherever her mom found work. It wasn't until Nadine had made the decision to open up her dance studio that they had finally settled down. Not that Nina's mom ever really seemed settled. She was always moving around, taking trips and travelling for work. Her mom was a restless soul, Nina had decided, no matter that she never really seemed happy about it. She was always happiest when she came home to Nina and the little life they'd made in Vienna.

But as much as Nina liked living in one place, part of her had begun to miss the excitement of moving around too. She'd never really been one to connect deeply with kids her own age. She'd just never felt like she belonged among them, even before she reached her angsty teenaged years. It was probably, in part at least, because of all the moving when she'd been young, which certainly hadn't helped. It wasn't like she wasn't capable of making friends. She just never seemed to really connect with any of the kids she grew even marginally close to. She was certainly far more naturally friendly and easy-going than her mom. In her whole life, she wasn't sure she'd ever really noticed Nadine having any actual 'friends'. Colleagues, maybe, friendly acquaintances, but no close friends. Not even any boyfriends. Her mom was, when left to her own devices, a very private and solitary person. But then in a blink she could be the most personable, charming and friendly person Nina had ever met.

She supposed her own ability to 'turn on' her own friendliness whether she wanted to be personable or not was something she'd inherited from Nadine, or at least picked up. As easygoing and friendly as Nina could be herself, she still preferred solitude or her mom's company. It was normal for her.

It was safe.

Her mom made her feel safe. It was an odd feeling that had followed her around ever since she was a child. She only ever felt truly safe around her mom. Even capable as she was of taking care of herself—Nadine had made absolutely certain of that early on—it was a feeling that never entirely diminished save when she was with her mom. Perhaps it came from the fact that her mom had been the only real constant in her life. Who knew?

As she reached the floor their apartment was on, Nina was already flicking through her keys for the right one to unlock the front door, letting her backpack fall from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow as she put the key in the lock, her other hand reaching around to pull out her phone again.

But just as she was about to turn the key in the lock, the back of her neck was abruptly prickling as the sound of unfamiliar footsteps sounded behind her. Unease was suddenly flooding through her as the bottom seemed to drop out of her stomach, a distant, anxious part of her mind recognizing that the footsteps belonged to at least three different men. It also recognized that they were closing in on her.

Turning, her eyes confirmed what her ears had told her, flicking between three men in dark, nondescript clothing that neither drew attention nor would hinder any movement. With a flash of apprehension, she realized she hadn't heard them follow her up…meaning they had been waiting for her. Panic flared through Nina, and with a jerk she swung her bag around into the face of the man stepping closer. With a grumbling sound, he batted the backpack away, snatching hold of it and wrenching it from her hand. As he did, Nina's muscles were already coiling to make a run for it.

But before she could even take the first step, a large hand was closing around her upper arm, the grip painfully tight as another of the men yanked her almost off her feet as he pulled her closer to him. With a dull, cracking thud, her phone fell to the floor.

With the efficiency of those who had done this before, the other two men immediately turned for the stairs Nina had just climbed, one looking around warily as he covered their exit, the other grabbing hold of Nina's other arm, helping to speed her along, making Nina's attempts to drag her feet pointless.

No matter the desperate protests and anxious questions falling from her mouth, they paid her little mind, seemingly unconcerned that someone could hear them kidnapping her—they were _kidnapping_ her!—save a hard shake to unbalance her so she would stop dragging her feet and start down the stairs.

If anything, that made her even more fearful. What kind of kidnappers weren't concerned with being caught in the act? Her heart thrummed with terror, feeling like it was about to hammer right up her throat.

Every instinct in Nina screamed to resist, but as they tugged her down the stairs, she forced herself to hold off, the small voice in the back of her head that sounded an awful lot like her mother reminding her to be smart, to plan…to take advantage.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and ducked around to head for the back of the building, Nina caught sight of a dark SUV waiting outside as the third man went ahead of them to prop open the door. It was then that the man to Nina's left let out a half-hearted huff, glancing over to his companion over Nina's head.

"For all that we were cautioned about this one, she really isn't putting up much of a fight. You're sure this is the one we're after? I was expecting, well, more." Nina nearly bristled, but she forced herself to remain calm, working on getting her still racing pulse back under control. She needed to keep her head. On her other side, the first man harrumphed, glancing down at Nina with an expression bordering on disdain. She could only look back at him with wide, frightened eyes…not entirely affected. But as he looked away, he appeared to relax minutely, the tension across his shoulders loosening as he answered his friend.

It was what she'd been waiting for.

"He said the girl, so we got the girl. Why he wants her or what he's intending to do with her once we get her back to the base is—" With a sharp jerk, Nina had twisted herself free from one hard grip and, turning under the second guy's arm, whirled to slam a hard kick into the back of his knee before using all of her weight to shove him into the wall to their right.

They should have done their homework. At her mother's insistence, Nina had been learning a range of martial arts and self-defence skills since she was a kid—her mom had always insisted she know how to defend herself. And she was good; she was fast and she was stronger than she looked. She was no helpless little girl.

Neither of her captors had been expecting it. In a heartbeat she was free of both of them, spinning to land a hard knee to the first guy's sternum. With a wheeze, he doubled over. She was already turning back to the second guy again, landing a dazing kick across his face.

But she'd almost forgotten about the third guy. As she turned and made to dash for the stairs back up to the main foyer, another set of arms closed around her torso, pinning her arms and nearly lifting her off the ground, startling a surprised gasp from Nina. But being grabbed from behind was nearly the first lesson from Self-Defence 101. She instantly let her body go loose, dropping like a stone in the guy's grip. Predictably, the move unbalanced him, and before he could recover Nina was twisting again, shimmying her arm free to elbow him sharply in the face. His nose cracked loudly in the enclosed hall, and almost immediately blood started pouring from it. With a pained bellow, his arms loosened further, one instinctively flying up to his face. It was enough that Nina was able to wrench herself free and bolt back toward the front of the building, vaulting over the second guy where he was still slumped on the ground.

She almost made it too, but not before the first guy had recovered enough to come at her again.

Around her, her would-be kidnappers were starting to growl and bark at each other, but Nina paid what they were saying little mind, instead focusing wholly on getting away. If she could just get out the front door, she could lose them in the maze-like streets and alleys of the part of the city where she and her mom lived.

But getting away meant trying to keep track of and escape three grown, highly-trained men who were more than likely mercenaries of some kind. All of whom were trying to grab her.

She'd had the element of surprise at first, but that wasn't going to last much longer. She needed to get away as quickly as possible.

Dodging out of the way before lashing out with another sharp kick, she held off the first guy long enough to duck past the third's second attempt to grab her, making another bid to escape.

But then a hand latched around her ankle, wrenching it out from under her. With a startled cry, Nina went down, her teeth snapping together even as she landed hard on the floor, forearms and elbows skidding painfully across the roughened tiles. As the second guy grabbed at her again, his grip pinching at her leg as he just barely missed getting a hold, Nina pushed herself around with a mewl of pain, kicking awkwardly out at him. Somehow, she managed to catch him across the face, causing him to jerk back, letting go of her ankle. In an instant she was scrambling up again, barely noticing the ache that burned up her arms thanks to the adrenaline surging through her.

Just as she was reaching her feet, one of them managed to grab her again, his hand snarling in her jacket. It pulled another cry from Nina as she was wrenched backward again, throwing her off balance, making her head spin, as the third guy yanked her arm back behind her even as his other arm clamped around her shoulders.

As he did, the first guy was righting himself to come at her from the front. Grabbing onto the third guy's arms and using his grip on her for leverage, she swung her legs up to drive them into the first guy's chest. It was an awkward kick, her legs not quite making it where she had aimed, but it was effective nonetheless. Then it was a matter of throwing her weight forward as best she could, her swinging legs helping to strain her captor's grip on her. It was just enough to loosen his hold and she was determinedly twisting free again, forcibly ignoring the way she stumbled as her feet landed on the uneven floor again…she hadn't noticed the floor being so uneven before.

As she staggered upright, she fought against the sudden wave of dizziness that threatened to disorient her; she must have hit her head when the one guy pulled her feet out from under her, she thought absently. But she couldn't think on it for more than a split-second as another one of them came at her; she couldn't quite tell which one, he was moving too fast, blurring before her eyes. She just barely managed to dodge out of his grasping reach, overbalancing to land on her hands and knees as she did so. Regaining her feet was difficult this time, sending a surge of panic through her. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Blinking rapidly to try and clear her suddenly fuzzy head, she lashed out again at the shape she saw coming at her out of the corner of her eye. But her hours—months…years, really—of training were beginning to devolve as her limbs no longer seemed to be doing quite what she wanted them to.

It wasn't enough as one of them grabbed her again, one hand clenched around her wrist as the other locked around her waist. Beginning to grow desperate as terror flooded through her at the way she was suddenly incapable of properly fighting back, Nina resorted to clawing and kicking wildly at the man holding her, writhing and twisting as she struggled to get free. The haze beginning to seep across her senses was beginning to grow stronger, but she wasn't about to give up. She needed to get away. She had to!

The man holding her bellowed as her nails managed to swipe harshly across his cheek as she twisted again in his grip. With a snarl he jerked her around, landing an awkward blow against the side of her head even as a sharp prick glanced into her neck. One of the other men was laughing, but Nina could barely see straight enough to figure out which one, though she still scrabbled desperately against the arm clamped around her torso.

"No wonder Strucker wants this one," one of them laughed, his voice seeming to waver in and out of range even as Nina finally realized she'd been drugged, "one dose is usually enough to knock a grown man on their ass, and here this little wisp of a girl is still fighting against a second." The one holding her nearly growled at his companion's amusement. Nina snarled as she felt herself beginning to move, struggling as hard as she could even though her wavering consciousness made it hard to focus.

"Strong too," the other offered, his voice faintly garbled, "Def'nitly not a normal girl. I know men in our unit who don't hit as hard." The first one that had spoken chuckled humourlessly even as Nina felt her awareness slipping away as whatever they'd dosed her with finally managed to do its work.

"Well, I suppose we shouldn't really be surprised; Strucker did say she was likely Enhanced."

And Nina's world went dark.


	19. Chapter 18

**New York City, USA**

**Spring 2015**

The view out over New York City really was quite beautiful, especially as daylight was turning to evening. But Nadine barely noticed. She didn't notice that the building around her seemed made purely to take advantage of the view afforded by its height over the rest of the city, the upper floors a glass and metal work of modern architectural art.

She had barely even glanced out outside, or if she had, she hadn't given it much consideration. No, as she sat without moving a muscle, ankles crossed and hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed rather inadvertently on the duffle lying next to the cream-coloured couch she sat on. But she wasn't really seeing that either.

She was seeing the key left hanging from the lock on the door of their apartment. And the familiar backpack tossed carelessly across the hall. The phone lying forgotten on the floor with its dark screen cracked. The scuff-marks on the worn, weathered hardwood floor.

It had all pointed to one thing.

Upon slipping away from the Avengers, Nadine had raced back to Vienna with single-minded focus. She hadn't even bothered to stop at her Workshop first. She didn't disarm. She didn't change out of her Ghost catsuit. She didn't stop.

She just went home.

She couldn't stop moving, she couldn't focus on anything but getting home, getting her daughter and getting them both far away. The only thing on her mind had been Nina, because with the fear and trepidation burning through Nadine, she simply couldn't focus on anything else. For some reason—she had refused to contemplate what that reason might be, though part of her whispered that she already knew—Baron von Strucker had wanted her daughter and needed Nadine out of the way so he could get at her.

But the instant she had reached the little apartment they shared, Nadine had frozen with terror. Everything froze. Time seemed to stop even as her blood turned to hard, burning ice in her veins. The dispassionate spy in her had taken in everything with a cool, calculating eye. Her maternal side on the other hand…with a hoarse cry of rage, Nadine's fist had violently ripped a hole the wall.

But it was nothing compared to the way Nadine had felt like her own insides had been shredded.

They'd taken Nina.

She had been too late.

Strucker had her daughter.

And Strucker was working with Katerina.

The Ghost and the Mother in her had merged in that moment, and both wanted blood. Lots of blood.

It was only then that she'd retreated to her Workshop. She'd spent the next few hours finding everything she could, drawing on every contact she had, every resource, to find every trace of intel on Baron Wolfgang von Stucker and Katerina Zhirova.

What she found was not promising. If her contacts were right, Stucker's hideaway fortress was just that, a fortress. Not that it dampened the impulse vibrating furiously through her to storm the gates regardless and get her little girl back no matter the cost.

But the part of her that was still able to think rationally knew she couldn't infiltrate or attack the base alone, no matter how good she was at what she did. It was simply too well secured and there were too many variables for a successful infiltration, meaning the risks to Nina were far too great…unless she had backup. It meant she needed help.

And despite everything, even after all these years and everything she'd done, there was only one person Nadine felt she could possibly hope to trust.

She just needed to let herself trust her little sister with her biggest secret first.

But Nina was worth it.

She only came back from the dark place deep inside her own head at the sound of several different treads approaching.

As she looked up from where she sat, the very person she desperately needed to see walked into view.

Natasha's eyes went wide as she stopped in her tracks, shocked nearly into silence…nearly. "Nadya! What—how—what are you doing here?!" As Natasha all but stuttered with surprise, the rest of her companions were filing in after her, each freezing upon seeing Nadine sitting in a sleek, dove-grey pant-suit with measured poise on one of the couches in the heart of the Avenger's Tower.

"Wait, Intruder Alert anyone? Who is this?" Tony Stark was the first after Natasha to react, his abrupt exclamation feeling like a nail driving into Nadine's temple. Natasha, startled from her surprise, shot the billionaire a quelling look, silencing the man before he could make any more snappy quips. Satisfied that she'd made her point, the redheaded assassin turned back to her old friend, warily climbing to the level where Nadine sat on one of the cream-coloured couches. Steeling herself and pushing away the simmering rage and the anxious fear vibrating in her chest, Nadine stood, her grey eyes fixing on Natasha.

"Natalia, I need your help." The look of wide-eyed shock appeared again on Natasha's face at the blonde's bluntness, even more so than a mere moment before. " _I—I don't know who else to go to, lisichka_ ," she added softly in Russian, her nerves and her discomfort getting the better of her. Natasha didn't immediately answer her, searching Nadine's face as her mind worked furiously. A sudden flicker of uneasy supposition appeared in her sharp green eyes.

"That doesn't answer the one, very salient question that is still unanswered: who are you, and how did you get up here?" Nadine grit her teeth at Stark's renewed questioning, his irreverent tone laced with wary but genuine curiosity. Stark, along with the handful of other people who had appeared the same time Natasha had—Rogers and Barton among them, looks of recognition appearing on their faces—were slowly making their own way up to the level where Nadine had been waiting for Natasha to return. A look of utter frustration passed over Natasha' face as Nadine's expression threatened to close off at the interruption before she rounded on the billionaire.

"Shut up, Tony," Natasha snapped, sending the man a second, harsher glare. Stark looked taken aback, blinking widely in surprise. Had Nadine not been so fretful and fixated on her purpose in the Avenger's Tower, she might have been tempted to snicker at the unsympathetic looks he got from the other members of his team. Natasha's worried green eyes turned back to Nadine.

"Nadya? What's going on?" The genuine worry in her little sister's voice was enough to crack through the wall Nadine had struggling to keep her anxieties behind, setting her fear loose. She'd barely dared hope that Natasha would even want to help… Almost instantly Nadine's hands began trembling. Natasha's eyes went wide again as they fixed on the blonde's slender hands, fear and concern of her own flickering in the green depths.

In an instant Natasha had closed the space between then, reaching out to clasp Nadine's cold fingers in her own.

" _What's happened_ ," she asked, switching to Russian herself, easily picking up on Nadine's anxiety as the blonde's walls threatened to crumble further, " _I've never seen you so scared_." Nadine drew in a shuddering breath, her grip tightening painfully on Natasha's. Natasha didn't even flinch.

"They took my daughter," she blurted out, not even realizing she'd reverted to English. This time Natasha's brow furrowed, bewildered shock flashing across her face.

"Your daughter! Nadya, you're a Mom?" Tears suddenly threatening, Nadine nodded sharply. Natasha still looked shocked, but there was a glimmer surfacing in her eyes that Nadine recognized. "How long have you had a daughter?" Nadine fought against the instinct to shut down, to silence Natasha's questions and the familiar light growing in those shrewd eyes. But it didn't stop her own eyes and her voice from growing hard in defence regardless.

"I think you've already figured that out," Nadine said softly, the warning in her tone causing Natasha to hesitate. "She's why I left, why I disappeared. You know I would never have been able to keep her, not if I stayed. Not if they'd found out." That familiar calculating glimmer deepened. But there was renewed surprise there too; Natasha hadn't expected Nadine to admit she'd run from the Red Room because she'd gotten pregnant. Truthfully, Nadine hadn't entirely meant to admit as much, though doing so would undoubtedly save the time Natasha would have taken to figure it out. Because she knew Natasha would have figured it out eventually, especially when she learned how old Nina was…

"I—Nadya, you—the father?" Even as Natasha stumbled through her reaction, which Nadine suspected was still mostly genuine in her surprise, there was still no hiding that glint; the redhead was fishing for confirmation again, "is it who I think it is," she asked quietly, pitching her voice low enough to keep the others in the room from overhearing. Nadine's jaw clenched and she looked sharply away, her eyes fixing on the corner of the coffee table as her long-time companions, guilt and shame, once again threatened her composure.

It was answer enough.

"Oh, Nadya." Nadine's eyes snapped to Natasha at the sympathy in her little sister's voice.

"That is my business, Natalia," she ground out, her voice nevertheless wavering as she stared Natasha down. The younger woman's gaze lowered in apology. "That's not what I'm here about." Her mouth snapped shut as she fought to regain control of herself, pushing her lingering guilt aside where it was quickly overshadowed again by her fear and rage. Nadine pulled her hands free from Natasha's, clasping them together tightly as she stepped out from between the couch and the coffee table, creating a measure of distance to help her calm her agitation and get her emotions back under some semblance of control.

"That's not what's important," she resumed after a moment, her voice still faintly tremulous but once again coolly under her command. Natasha looked up again, her features once again focused and calculating.

"Who took her?" Nadine forced herself to calm the resurging vibration in her chest at the question.

"A man named Strucker." An exclamation of surprise rippled through the audience Nadine had nearly forgotten they had. Both women turned to glance at the men all waiting awkwardly but with a measure of patience as the two women had spoken somewhat privately.

"Baron Wolfgang von Strucker?" Nadine turned to the man she faintly recognized as Bruce Banner. "The last viable Head of HYDRA? Strucker's the one who took your daughter?" She nodded sharply in answer to his question. She ignored the concerned, even apologetic sympathy she glimpsed in Captain Roger's eyes and the outright apprehension and guilt in Hawkeye's. It would only distract her.

"Well, his goons did, at least," she responded bitterly. "But I know he has her. He had a hand in blackmailing me."

"Wait," Natasha broke in shrewdly, "how do you know?" Nadine's gaze grew veiled, but she sighed after a moment, giving in and answering the younger woman's question.

"Azarov gave me his name." The three Avengers who had gone after the criminal broker with Nadine all started, Natasha sighing with realization while Hawkeye and Rogers both looked incredulous, even irritated in the case of the Captain.

"And you didn't think to tell us this," Rogers asked quietly, "you didn't think that was something we needed to know?" Nadine met his gaze coldly. He didn't flinch.

"No. He threatened _my_ daughter; Strucker's mine," she said simply. The Captain's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and though Nadine could easily pick up his disapproval, she surprisingly didn't see any condemnation. She mentally shook her head to realign her thoughts, glancing around to the other assembled Avengers. "I have a list of a few locations where he may have taken her; I had to lean on my connections pretty hard to get it, but I do. And you've hit most of them in the last few months…save one." She paused, her strong sense of self-reliance and years of mistrust in anyone but herself telling her not to admit what she knew she needed to say next.

"But the last facility is too well guarded, too secure," she said bitterly as her matter-of-fact tone broke. "I can't extract her alone, not without risking Nina's life." She turned back to Natasha after surveying the Avengers where they had come up to gather behind their lone female member. "I'll give you the location of the facility…on one condition." She took another deep breath, steeling her resolve. "I want in."

Natasha turned to her companions. Most of their faces were virtually unreadable, but Nadine easily picked up on their collective wariness, uncertainty and outright misgiving. Nadine's heart was suddenly hammering its way up her throat, making it hard to breath past the panicked staccato; they were considering refusing.

" _Lisichka_ ," Natasha turned at the term of endearment even as Nadine realized it had whispered from her lips. But at the questioning look in her little sister's face, Nadine knew she had to give her the last piece, her last bit of intelligence.

"Azarov gave me another name," Natasha's eyes began to narrow as Nadine's voice dropped low, her rage finally making it into her voice past the fear, "who Strucker was working with; the one who told him about me and Nina." At Nadine's tone, Natasha's eyes went hard, glinting dangerously in the low light as she easily picked up on her sister's wrath.

"Who." Nadine knew she had her. The blonde assassin met the redhead's gaze with a dark, deadly light in her grey eyes.

"Katerina Zhirova."


	20. Chapter 19

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

One definite drawback to suddenly being able to move at super-speeds was that sitting still was a huge drag. There was no masking his impatience to be going even as the doctor finished up his tests, gesturing that Pietro was free to go.

Which meant he was waiting just as impatiently for Wanda to finish up with her daily exam. It was taking long enough that he was seriously considering popping off for a quick run to burn off some of his restless energy from being cooped up in the lab all morning.

But he resisted the urge. He'd promised to stay by her side just as she had promised to stay by his. They were all each other had left in the world. And she had asked him to wait for her. Wanda hated the exams. She loved her new abilities. They both did. After what felt like a lifetime of feeling powerless? Their new powers were a gift unlike anything they could have ever dreamed of. Although, Pietro could tell the telepathic aspect of Wanda's powers had driven her nearly insane at first, almost completely overwhelming her. And she still sometimes seemed, well, off because of them.

But she hated the poking and prodding that came with their gifts.

They would soon be free of it, though. The techs and doctors just wanted to make sure their abilities were stable and weren't harming them. At first the Twins had been put into isolation as their powers manifested in order to protect themselves and others. It had been a horrible time; the first time Pietro and Wanda had really been truly separated since the deaths of their parents. They hadn't been able to let go of each other for days after they'd been let out of those horrible cold cells.

So he waited, settling on one of the rolling stools that littered the lab. One of the lab techs kept shooting him an irritated look at the way he kept spinning and fidgeting, his leg bouncing in his eagerness to be gone, to be moving. He merely smirked back at her. He'd never been one to sit still before Strucker's experiments, and after? Definitely not one to sit still.

It was then that a handful of Strucker's for-hires came stomping into the lab, their irritability nearly tangible. Pietro didn't need Wanda's mind-reading to tell him that something had them defensive and tetchy.

But that wasn't what really caught his attention. No, it was the slight girl they were carrying into the lab. Pietro couldn't help but stare, curious about who she was, why she'd been brought here, and what on earth three of Strucker's mercenaries were doing bringing in a girl who was, at most, a year or two younger than him and his twin. The fact that she was rather pretty didn't hurt either.

"Another volunteer," he threw out curiously, not bothering to care how patronizing he sounded. No one on the base could touch him or Wanda, and not just because of their abilities. They were Strucker's shining successes, his only surviving test subjects. Even before the experiments had taken hold, he and Wanda had been untouchable, and ever since he'd figured that out, Pietro had been taking full advantage…much to Wanda's exasperation.

But as the men carrying the new girl in all but dumped her on the waiting exam table, Pietro was suddenly sitting straighter, his brows beginning to draw into a concerned frown. She was restrained, strong zip ties securing her wrists and ankles. This was not normal, not if this girl was going to be another test subject like him and Wanda. One of the men turned and glared at Pietro as soon as the girl was on the table, giving the younger man a good view of the fingernail scratches down the side of his face. Pietro's eyebrows rose of their own volition.

It was then that he noticed all three of the men bringing the girl in were arrayed with a collection of spectacular bruises, scrapes, split lips and one even a freshly broken nose. Frowning, Pietro straightened further before finally standing even as Wanda reappeared at his side, an uneasy frown of her own marring her face. His twin laced her fingers with his, unconsciously exchanging comfort and support as they had since as long as they could remember.

"If she's a volunteer, I'm Iron Man," one of the men grumbled angrily as he stormed back out of the lab, nearly knocking into Wanda and Pietro as he did. Had Pietro not been distracted by the worrying mystery of the girl, he might have been tempted to ring the man's ears a bit for nearly running purposefully into the two of them.

The retreating mercenary's two companions weren't far behind, lingering only long enough to ensure the zipties they'd bound the girl with were still secure and the exam table's built-in restraints were snugly fastened across her chest, hips and knees. The girl didn't even twitch as they worked. She was so limp and unresponsive that, had her chest not been rising and falling lightly, Pietro might have worried that she was dead.

As the Maximoff Twins looked on, the lab techs began to buzz around the new arrival, tutting and whispering around her like she was a new toy. Pietro could practically feel his twin's unease, knowing unconsciously that it matched his own. The atmosphere in the room had tangibly changed as soon as the blonde girl had been brought in. There was a level of anticipation that neither of the twins remembered from their turns on that table; there had only been a resigned determination when their turn had come up, but since all the previous subjects had died, that was somewhat understandable.

Deep in his gut, Pietro knew there was something wrong, and the way Wanda's eyes had gone wide and fretful only confirmed that. Her expression certainly did nothing to lessen the anxious twisting in his middle.

The feeling only got worse when Strucker appeared a few moments later, obviously impatient to take a look at the new arrival as the techs had finished whatever preliminary examinations they'd been doing. Pietro couldn't help but think the German Baron looked far too eager at the prospect of a new subject for his experiments.

The Baron was nearly gleeful as he approached the girl's side, only for his expression to shift to one of aggravation as he took in his newest subject's current state.

"How much did they give her," he barked at the techs, not even bothering to look up at them as he glanced over the charts he had been handed as he walked into the lab. He leaned forward to examine the girl more closely, peering at her eyes, gauging her response to physical stimuli, even taking her pulse despite the fact that the techs had already hooked her up to a variety of monitors. One of the techs sidled up next to Strucker, handing him the newest set of printouts. Wanda's fingers tightened on Pietro's, the two of them exchanging another apprehensive glance as they realized what their benefactor intended to do.

That the Sceptre was wheeled in moments later only confirmed that.

This was wrong. Pietro and Wanda had volunteered for what had been done to them through Strucker's Experiments. His eyes latched onto the pale-haired girl who was still out cold on the exam table as Strucker and the techs hovered over her; she looked barely younger than Pietro and Wanda. And the fact that she was still unconscious—drugged, Wanda mouthed to him in confirmation, not even needing to read her twin's mind to know what he'd been thinking—made it worse still, causing her to look far too young and innocent to be in this place. There was no anger in this girl. No fire for vengeance. No desperation. Nothing that the rest of the volunteers had had motivating them.

Pietro was abruptly fighting to ignore the growing impulse to keep Strucker from so much as touching this girl. Volunteering was one thing. But kidnapping? Wanda shot him an odd, considering glance before edging closer to him, her blue-green eyes flashing scarlet for a moment as her temper flared. He knew precisely how she felt. They'd both known going into the Experiments that Strucker's methods were shady at best. At worst… They weren't stupid. Anyone offering them what he had—the chance for vengeance for what had been done to them, a chance to fight back for Sokovia—the way that he had? Obviously the German Baron was more bad news than good. But he was the only one to offer what Wanda and Pietro had craved, and they had snatched at the opportunity with both hands. But Pietro had genuinely believed the man when he said it was their choice to continue. They both had. He'd held nothing back, being completely honest with them about the risks of what they'd been signing up for. They'd known the chances of making it to the other side of the Experiments had been miniscule at best. And they'd chosen to go through with it anyway.

It didn't look like this girl even had the choice to begin with.

She was utterly helpless in the face of Strucker's ambition.

Yet, she hadn't made it easy for the group of Strucker's thugs to bring her in, judging by the marks the girl had left on the three men.

"They said it took two doses to get her down," the tech said quietly, "and they needed to give her a third on the way here when she started coming around in transit." Strucker glanced up in surprise before the gleeful look returned. The vivid bruises popped back into Pietro's mind, nearly causing him to smirk despite his apprehension. Whoever this girl was, she wasn't one to give up easily. It helped lessen the unease and worry and even fear churning in his stomach. She was obviously strong and strong-willed to have put up such a fight against three grown and highly trained men.

It meant her chances of survival were just that little bit higher.

Pietro almost didn't notice when the tech continued: "you were right, Sir. She inherited her parents' Enhanced metabolic rates, among other traits. It's the only way she could have remained functional for so long after being given a single dose, much less two."

"You have taken all preliminary and control samples and gathered all baseline data?" Around him the techs all nodded and gave their confirmations, though a few of them were beginning to look worried. "Then wake her up. She needs to be conscious before we can begin." Pietro was almost certain he'd misunderstood at first, but as Wanda nearly jerked beside him at Strucker's enthusiastic declaration, he knew he hadn't.

"Sir," one of the techs objected, "surely it would be better for the drugs to work their way out of her system naturally first. And we need to have her under observation for at least a few more days to get the proper range of control—" Strucker shot the man a quelling glare before gesturing another tech forward with what Pietro assumed was something to wake her from her drug-induced unconsciousness.

"There is no time like the present," Strucker intoned as he turned his full attention back to the girl.

Within moments of being dosed the girl was coming round, almost immediately fighting groggily against her restraints as she began to panic, demanding in a hoarse, slurred voice to be let free, demanding to know what was going on, what they wanted.

Next to her, Strucker gestured again, and the tech who had given her the dose that brought the girl around came forward again, this time bearing a needle that he was filling from a faintly familiar purple-glass bottle; Pietro was sure he recognized it from his own experience on that table. The girl's face paled as she watched the tech inject the specially formulated drugs intended to help the body accept the Sceptre's energy into her IV before renewing her struggle.

But Pietro could see in her eyes as she realized she wasn't going to be able to fight her way free. Next to him, Wanda began to tremble, pressing closer to him in anxious anticipation at what was coming. They both remembered all too well what the Sceptre's energy felt like as it surged through their bodies, permeating and scorching through every muscle, every bone, every cell. It was impossible to forget the feeling. It was too easy to get lost in the memory of it. It was only when a faint, distressed whimper came from his twin that Pietro realized his grip on her hand had tightened painfully. The mystery girl shuddered as the drugs flooded her system, shaking within the restraints now that she had stopped struggling against them.

"Please…don't do this." Her voice—faintly accented, but with what language Pietro couldn't quite tell—was so small, so at odds with the fire the twins had glimpsed when she first started to wake up.

But Strucker all but ignored her pleas, reciting calmly that she needed to relax and that she had a chance to become something incredible, something miraculous; the same words that he had spoken to Pietro and Wanda that they'd found so encouraging before the Baron had started. Horror began to flood through Pietro at the mix of anger and terror in her wide blue-grey eyes.

Especially when they latched beseechingly on him and his sister.

Next to her, Strucker was turning to hand off the clipboard he'd been perusing and gestured the Sceptre forward, only to catch sight of the Twins where they lingered on the far side of the room before turning back to the girl, gesturing sharply again.

And then Pietro and Wanda were getting shooed from the Lab. They had barely been herded out into the corridor as Strucker initiated the first of the procedures, filling the lab with an eerie, arcing blue light.

The last glimpse of the girl Pietro got was of her seizing, her slender body arching off the table, the restraints creaking ominously from the strain of her wrenching against them as a breathless scream tore from her lips. His own muscles cramped and ached with remembered pain even as Wanda jerked next to him.

As the door closed, throwing the corridor into darkness as the flickering light was cut off along with the hoarse shriek, it left Pietro feeling sick even as a vibrating, impotent anger settled in his chest.


	21. Chapter 20

**New York City, USA**

**Spring 2015**

"I imagine this is going to seem pretty strange to you." Nadine glanced up from the final check she was giving her subcompact Glock at the sound of Natasha's voice, catching the redhead's mischievous glance, "working on a team. You've been solo for a long time."

With a barely a conscious thought, Nadine had her sidearm securely holstered even as Natasha reached the bottom of the Quinjet's boarding ramp where the blonde assassin had been waiting.

She'd been the first one ready to leave, gearing up in record time, but it felt odd to wait onboard alone. But even as the Avengers made their way onto the jet, it had felt even more odd to wait on board with them. She wasn't an Avenger. She was just tagging along for the ride. She lifted a quizzical eyebrow at her little sister as Natasha paused next to her. It truly baffled her just how quickly she and the redhead had fallen right back into the familiarity with each other they'd once had. It was as though the years had simply melted away, and the comfort that development gave her had done wonders to ease Nadine's near constant state of rage- and fear-fuelled panic. Natasha looked on the verge of grinning. Nadine felt her lip curl in a faint smile before responding.

"Not so strange. It'll be just like when we were girls; working together, fighting side by side." Natasha actually did laugh. Behind her, Barton came into view, making his way toward the Quinjet. He was the last one. With a subtle tilt of her head, Natasha gestured for the pair of them to board the ramp.

"It only really happened once, Nadya. But we did make a pretty good team."

"We took down a pretty formidable opponent, though. No doubt about that," Nadine said back, forcing an open smile to her face, as though the memory didn't bring to mind other more painful ones. But Natasha seemed to catch it anyway; she'd always been able to do that, Nadine was reminded with an affectionate grin. She settled herself on one of the cabin's centre bank of seats near the front, across from where Rogers sat just off to the side from the pilot's compartment: "Compared to that, this'll be a piece of cake." Natasha shrugged, sitting one seat down from the blonde woman, close to Banner as Barton slipped past them both as he headed for the pilot's seat.

"It didn't seem so hard at the time," Natasha quipped with an easy grin. Around them, the Quinjet hummed to life, and within moments it had lifted off from the Avenger's Tower on its way to Sokovia.

"Well, we were working together and we had the element of surprise," Nadine rationalized. "Still, we probably shouldn't have been able to manage it." Natasha nodded thoughtfully before another mischievous grin broke through.

"And that's probably because we weren't thinking about the fact that we shouldn't have been able to do it." Nadine couldn't help but laugh at the assessment. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Rogers glancing up at her, an odd almost-smile coming to his face as he glanced between her and Romanoff.

It was then that Stark chose to make the rounds, handing out the team's earpieces, including one for Nadine. It was with a wary glance at the billionaire that Nadine took the small piece of tech, ignoring the calculating look he had fixed on her, as though trying to figure her out. After a moment he moved on, blessedly not saying a word. Nadine had to withhold a thankful sigh, though Natasha's hastily hidden smirk indicated she hadn't hidden her relief quite enough to hide it from the master spy her sister was.

"He just doesn't like not knowing things," the female Avenger said conspiratorially, leaning toward Nadine even as she tilted her head toward Stark. Nadine nearly snorted; that had been easy to figure out. "And you're a mystery to him; a little like a new puzzle."

"Isn't that my life's ambition," Nadine replied dryly, "to be a new puzzle for Tony Stark." Natasha gave her a sympathetic grin as she leaned back.

"Not that much of a puzzle, really," Tony suddenly piped up, interrupting, "facial recognition really is a very handy tool, you know." Nadine and Natasha's attention snapped to the billionaire in surprise, Nadine with a flutter of anxious unease settling in her stomach. Tony looked for a split-second like he was going to try fighting back his self-satisfied smirk, only to give up on the attempt as he paced leisurely through the Quinjet, drawing everyone's attention. Once he was sure he had it, ever fond of the spotlight as he was, he drew out a phone-like device with a flourish.

"Nadine Ryker," he announced, flicking a digital map of Nadine's life from the screen in his hand—what was it, a phone? A remote?—to project in front of him. Throughout the Quinjet, everyone seemed to sit a little straighter with curiosity…save Nadine, who straightened defensively. Natasha shot her a wary glance before her focus shifted back to Stark. "Age thirty-seven," he paused, looking to the blonde assassin with overly-animated skepticism, "What's your secret? You barely look a day over pool parties and frat boys!"

"Good diet and exercise," Nadine quipped back sarcastically. Tony ignored her.

"Gotta be the metabolism." Nadine rolled her eyes at the dismissive tone. "Lives in Vienna, but born in Smalltown-Nowhere Germany; moved to Russia at age five. Semi-professional ballerina until age twenty-four—I've never really liked ballet myself, but ballerinas, on the other hand—and then proceeded to move around for a bit. Opened one of the best small-scale private dance studios in Vienna, producing several high-calibre dancers over the years, including three notable prima ballerinas for different international dance companies. That's quite the backstory. I just have one question, though…well, a couple, but one main one:

"Where's the whole Ghost thing fit in? I don't see it here." Nadine glared coolly at him, but he ignored her again, continuing on. Across from her, Rogers tried but failed to hold back an exasperated groan, and Nadine could swear Natasha was fighting to keep from dropping her head to her hands.

"Mother to Nicola Ryker, seventeen—wait, seventeen? Really? You have a seventeen year-old kid? She'd adopted, right." Immediately Nadine was fighting not to grind her teeth in irritation bordering on rage. "Nope. Apparently not. Born in Germany—oh look, there's even a digital record of the birth certificate—no father documented. No indication of any major relationships, really."

"It's a little hard to date when single-handedly raising a daughter, running a prestigious ballet studio and moonlighting as the best assassin-for-hire out there," Nadine dismissed dryly, her hard eyes belying the almost casual way she said it, "are you quite finished?" Stark glanced up at her before nonchalantly shaking his head no.

"I like to know everything I can about people I work with, so no. I'm still digging," He fiddled and flicked through his digital bulletin board to illustrate his point, "are you actually German? I'd peg you as Russian, really; all the super spy/master assassin programs they had? You're a prime candidate, really. Whatever the truth, though, you're very good, I'll give you that. If I didn't know better all this—" he waved almost flamboyantly to the projections "—would look very real. I imagine just about all of it is fake, in fact. Well…" he tapped and swiped the phone again, a photo enlarging to display prominently among the rest of Nadine's constructed life, "…hard to fake that."

Everyone's attention, Nadine's included, had been drawn to the photo he'd pulled up of the blonde assassin and her daughter.

It had been taken just over a year before, from a story on their community blog about a local martial arts showcase where Nina had been one of the senior demonstrators. Nina had her arms around her mother's waist, smiling widely into the camera as Nadine was trying not to laugh, her own arm wrapped lovingly around her daughter's shoulders. Nadine's chest tightened even as an irritating prickle began to grow behind her eyes. Natasha stood almost as soon as Stark had brought up the picture, edging forward for a closer look, a distant expression on her face.

"She looks so much like you," she said softly, smiling as she looked between the photo and Nadine. Nadine could only smile tightly in response, struggling to hold back the welling of emotion the picture evoked. She did. They both had the same fine, pale hair and lithe dancer's figures. But there were differences. And Nadine could see the knowing glint in Natasha's eye that said she'd noticed too.

Everyone said Nina looked like Nadine, and that was true to some extent. But where Nadine had a cool, aloof loveliness, her features elegant and even sharp depending on the expression held on them, Nina was softer, her features more delicate—gentler even—when compared to Nadine's. She had a warmer beauty, with a vibrant, contagious smile, the faintest hint of a dimple on her chin and large, lively eyes that sparkled easily.

Nadine's _solnyshko_ ; her little sun.

But Nina's vibrant blue-grey eyes also gave entirely too much away. In most light they appeared pale grey like Nadine's. But other times, like in that specific photo…well, they weren't Nadine's eyes looking out of her daughter's face.

"You look like you should be her sister, not her mom," Barton spoke up next, breaking up what was being left unsaid between the two female assassins as he emerged from the cockpit to join his teammates.

"You had to have been awfully young when she was born," Rogers added softly as he too looked up to the photo, a faint frown creasing his brow as he did. Nadine nearly frowned herself at the unreadable look Natasha shot him. Curious. Nadine's gaze shifted back to the picture of Nina as he continued. "You don't even look as old as you are." A faint chuckle burst out of her unexpectedly.

"Says the hundred year-old man…" the blonde assassin quipped back, a trace of amusement in her voice. Rogers actually grinned as he glanced over at Nadine. Of course, Stark couldn't bear to be left out, unable to keep his own quips to himself.

"You know, I've heard of teen moms going on to become CEOs or star in bad TV shows; never heard of one going all Assassin's Creed, before."

Natasha made an annoyed sound deep in her throat as Nadine resumed glaring at the billionaire. "That's enough, Tony. I think you've made your point," the redhead said wryly, though there was no missing the pointed warning in her voice. Stark looked to his teammate, his eyes wide and incredulous. But there was a subtle, hard wariness just below the surface that hinted at why it was very unwise to dismiss Tony Stark as merely irreverent and immature.

"What?! You of all people don't want to know more? You, the super spy? The one she was hired to kill not all that long ago?" Natasha casually resumed her seat next to Nadine, leaning back with a careless shrug as she glanced innocently up at Stark.

"Blackmailed, not hired, Tony. That's an important distinction, thank you. And I know everything I need to know about her already," she said dismissively, nearly causing Nadine to smirk at the baffled look that was startled onto Stark's face. "I probably know more about her than any of you ever will. Not that I'm likely to tell you, no matter how nicely you ask." She looked pointedly at Stark, a sweet smile on her face.

"How?" Banner asked, genuinely curious even as Tony gasped dramatically, before bursting out with a sarcastic—and even mildly petulant— "she's not sharing! No fair!" For the most part everyone ignored him, though Banner did roll his eyes at the billionaire's childish antics. Natasha just smiled slyly, though her eyes didn't hold the usual playful twinkle baiting Tony usually inspired. Hawkeye, seeing the grin, only groaned, looking like the obvious had been right in front of him without realizing it until it reached up and slapped him in the face.

"She was part of the KGB program that trained you, wasn't she: The Black Widow Program." Her smile dimming minutely, Natasha nodded once in confirmation. Nadine merely let her head fall back against the headrest behind her, letting her eyes slide up to stare at the ceiling as Natasha elaborated at her team's—not counting Stark—unspoken urging to elaborate.

"If she hadn't run and disappeared from the program, it's fair to say she might have earned the Black Widow designation instead of me." Nadine chuckled bitterly at the assertion, dropping her eyes to glance at her little sister.

"Not likely," she contradicted lightly, "I never would have made it to Graduation if not for the success of the Treatments; I was a little too strong-willed for their tastes." Natasha raised an amused eyebrow.

"And I wasn't?" Nadine chuckled again, almost genuinely this time.

"That is true; you were too. But you played the game better. I was good at killing, the best, even—still am—but had I not run, they would have had to eliminate me within two years, three most. I had no interest in playing along with what they told me to do," she trailed off, leaving a great deal unsaid that she knew Natasha would be able to read in her eyes. There was no hiding the concern that flickered to life in the redheaded assassin's eyes. Nadine bit back a sigh, thankful that Natasha chose to let it go.

Petulant, but recognizing that he wasn't going to get anything more out of the two KGB-trained assassins, Stark retreated to the cockpit of the Quinjet to sulk, or so Nadine assumed. That brought her a measure of relief all its own. She hated feeling vulnerable, and as Stark had delved into her life—even though it was the life she'd created for just such an occasion—Nadine had felt just that, vulnerable and exposed…especially when her daughter had been brought into it. It left her feeling uneasy, an anxious tremor building in her chest. And apparently she was not hiding it well. She could practically feel Natasha's eyes on her, the younger woman glancing her way periodically with concerned glances that eventually turned to thoughtful ones as their flight to Sokovia progressed. She was so focused on the weight of Natasha's inquisitive eyes that she completely missed the way Captain Rogers kept glancing at her with a similarly curious gaze.

Eventually Nadine just gave in and forced the issue, knowing Natasha would take her time to break the silence if she didn't.

"What is it, Natasha?" Nadine shot the younger woman a pointed look. Natasha sighed after a moment, deciding how best to word what she wanted to say as she fixed Nadine with a penetrating look of her own. Even as Nadine made an impatient sound, hinting at the redhead to get on with it, she had to fight back a smile. Despite the years and all the things her little sister had been through, it seemed some things hadn't changed.

Natasha leaned forward to close the gap between her and Nadine, edging away from Barton and Banner where they sat behind her as she did. "Have you considered that, perhaps, Strucker wanted your daughter because both her parents were, well, because of who her parents are?" It was a barely audible murmur that Natasha used to voice her suspicions, easily keeping her question between her and the blonde assassin. Nadine's jaw clenched even as her grey eyes went ice cold. It was a testament to Natasha's self-discipline that her resolve didn't flag beneath Nadine's gaze. Just beyond the redheaded spy, Banner and Barton both flinched on seeing the look, and neither was in the blonde's direct line of sight.

"Of course I have." Nadine's words were as sharp and merciless as a surgical blade, carrying farther than Natasha's had. Across the narrow aisle, Rogers looked up, wary of the blonde woman's abrupt change in tone. "I know Strucker's reputation and of his interest in Enhanced persons; 'miracles', he calls us," she bit out coldly.

"Us?" Nadine's cool gaze fell on Rogers as he spoke up, "so you are Enhanced." A hard smile curled her lip as she considered the Captain's curious interest. Eventually she nodded, the cold defensiveness of the moment before beginning to melt away.

"Did you honestly think I wasn't?" A faint grin surfacing on his face, Rogers nodded in concession, silently admitting that he'd figured as much. "Believe it or not, there was some success in replicating the very serum that was used on you, Captain Rogers," she said softly, drawing a few more stunned but intrigued gazes, "and the Russian Government, courtesy of HYDRA, managed to acquire some. They studied it, tried to replicate it and eventually made do with a poor imitation when they realized that was the best they were going to get.

"And then they tested it." Nadine glanced around, hardly surprised that the two Avengers that looked the most shocked by her admission were Captain Rogers and Natasha.

"The Treatments were Erskine's formula?" Natasha burst out, genuinely astonished.

"A not-so-sophisticated and less potent approximation," Nadine corrected with an almost impatient air, eyeing Natasha's unguarded reaction with a trace of her own surprise. "What? You never wondered just _what_ the Treatments were? You always asked more questions about them than I did." Rogers watched Nadine levelly until the blonde turned back to him.

"So they tested this imitation serum on you," he confirmed softly, an almost unreadable look in his eyes that Nadine belatedly realized was weary dismay…and a trace of sympathetic understanding. Yes, she realized absently, of all the Avengers besides Natasha, he would be best able to guess what she had gone through with every injection… Slowly, Nadine nodded again. The Captain sighed heavily, his gaze growing distant as he processed what she'd said.

"Wait, how do you know all this?" Nadine's eyes lingered thoughtfully on Rogers for another moment before she turned back to her little sister, giving Natasha a bitter, humourless grin.

"I have contacts I've cultivated over the years, Natalia. You may have been the one asking all the questions, but I wanted to know what they'd been giving me even more than you did. So once I had the pull, I tugged on someone to get me copies of the Red Room's files on the Treatment Program. It was all there…for the most part," she shrugged, a trace of her lingering disappointment from when she'd noticed the missing pages when she'd finally gotten her hands on those files resurfacing even years later, "I still don't know the source of the reconstructed serum or how the KGB got their hands on it in the first place, though. I'm still working on that; I have been for a while, now." As she spoke Steve had glanced up, his thoughtful gaze fixing once again on her. Nadine hesitated at the considering way he was looking at her, barely even noticing an odd little twist deep in her stomach as his ocean-hued gaze steadily met hers.

After a moment he inhaled deeply, an assessing glance replacing the weary one her admission had brought forward as he straightened. "And the effects?" She fought back an amused smirk.

"Trying to get my measure, Captain?" she asked lightly. His expression didn't shift, continuing to watch her steadily, though there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. She canted her head, considering him back before answering. "Not so dramatic as the effect Erskine's serum had on you; it didn't drastically change my physical appearance. But I definitely underwent physiological 'upgrades', if you will, as a result of the Treatments; enhanced reflexes, speed and strength; accelerated healing; increased stamina; greater pain tolerance; improved and increased metabolism." In the cockpit Stark made a vindicated sound that Nadine pointedly ignored, though a trace of a smirk fought to curl her lip as she continued. "Again, not quite as extraordinary as in your case, but it still leaves me capable of things beyond what any non-Enhanced person is capable of." Nadine noted with amusement that the Captain seemed momentarily surprised that she'd answered. Natasha frowned, her eyes still wide and incredulous, though a troubled light had begun flickering in her familiar green gaze.

"If they had it, why didn't they use it on the rest of us?" Nadine smiled wanly at the redhead's question, though there was no warmth in the expression.

"It had a rather…limited success rate, as I'm sure you remember, _lisichka_ ," Nadine said quietly, almost remorsefully, "I was the only one of the ten in the first test group to show any significant physiological changes due to the Treatment; two of the other girls died within days of the first injections, one within a few hours. One other girl showed minimal enhancement while the others experienced no changes whatsoever." Natasha shifted uneasily in her seat, her mind working furiously as the troubled expression in her eyes grew. Nadine turned a grim, perceptive look on Natasha, knowing where her memory was trying to turn. "Three girls in your group and the group immediately preceding died during a week long exercise in withstanding interrogation techniques utilizing chemically-induced physical pain—an exercise that inexplicably involved several high-profile biochemists and a handful of leading doctors specializing in a range of fields focused on, but not limited, to Physiological Enhancement." Natasha paled, realization beginning to dawn on her face. "So who's to say they didn't."

"Fascinating as this all is," sounding truly serious for the first time since Nadine had met him, Stark broke in then, turning to face the rest of the cabin from the cockpit area, "We're on final approach to Strucker's base." An immediate shift came over the Avengers, all talk and thought on Nadine's revelations falling by the wayside as the task at hand took precedence. Rogers stood, retrieving his shield with an easy gesture as he surveyed his companions…including Nadine. She couldn't help the startled flutter in her chest that, for the time being at least, he'd seemingly accepted her as one of them.

"Alright, Avengers. It's time to go to work."


	22. Chapter 21

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

The entire facility felt like it was on edge, the base buzzing with unease that was quickly swelling to fear. Something was happening outside the base, and Pietro was seriously considering popping outside himself to see what was going on. The exasperated eye-roll his twin gave him held off that decision, though. But that didn't stop him from flitting around the base a bit, looking for any hint of what was going on.

At first he was skeptical of the whispers. But as the whispers grew and became warnings then calls to arms, excitement overtook anticipation.

They were here. It was the Avengers, including Iron Man.

Pietro grinned at the news, his pulse beginning to thrum in anticipation as an eager prickle seemed to race across his skin. This was their chance. It was what he and Wanda had been waiting for, what they had endured so much for. It was going to be the first true test of their new abilities. Now they could see if they could hold their own against the Avengers.

Nearly bursting with excitement at what was happening outside the base, he dashed off in search of Wanda. He wasn't sure if Strucker even knew yet what was going on. But once the German scientist did, he'd be sure to send them out to face the attackers. It wasn't arrogance to think that Strucker's soldiers would be no match for the Avengers, no matter their numbers or the technology at their disposal. But Pietro and Wanda? Pietro had no doubt that they could handle them.

When Pietro found Wanda, she was in the Lab, perched on a stool rolled up next to the examination table where the slight blonde girl was still restrained. Eying the lab tech slumped in the corner, eyes distant and glazed and movements sluggish from Wanda's manipulation, Pietro cautiously slipped into the Lab himself. He couldn't help but feel his excitement at the arrival of the Avengers dimming as he noticed how Wanda was watching the other girl with distant, troubled eyes. It was enough to slow him down to a far more sedate speed, one that would be restrained even for a regular person. The blonde was sleeping fitfully, her skin coated in a sickly sheen of sweat, her pretty face drawn with discomfort even as her cheeks held a fevered flush. As he came to a stop at his sister's side, he noticed Wanda's hand kept twitching, alternatively shifting closer to the younger girl's trembling fingers and pulling irritably back.

Instantly he understood why; she wanted to comfort the other girl, to assure her through touch that she wasn't completely alone in this place. It was something they did with each other; touch a way of proving beyond doubt that they weren't alone. But Wanda knew all too well that just now, even the slightest breath of air against the blonde girl's skin was likely to be agonizing. So the pressure of another person's grip, no matter how light or gentle, would be excruciating.

Wanda hadn't even looked up as he approached, but he knew she knew he was there before he'd even reached her side. She'd always known when he was near. One might think it was a side-effect of her new powers, but Pietro knew better. Perhaps her powers had made her that much more sensitive to him then she had been before, but she'd always been able to do that, just as he had with her.

It was a twin thing, he supposed.

"Her name is Nina, and I think her body is going to accept the Sceptre's energy," Wanda finally said softly, "she's going to survive, and I think she's going to be like us…" Her voice was laden with too many emotions to decipher. But Pietro understood anyway.

He could tell Wanda was fairly certain she was right, that this girl—Nina—was going to survive Strucker's experiments just as they had…but there was still a flicker of doubt, a fear that the Sceptre's power would still be too much for the young blonde's body to bear. They didn't even know the girl, and yet Pietro knew Wanda had found herself becoming attached to her…just as he was. It likely came out of the fact that here she was, enduring everything they had gone through, all alone without the choice that they'd had. It had inspired a sense of protectiveness in them both, especially Wanda. They both knew what it was like to be alone, to have no one to protect them from the harsh realities of the world. But even then, they'd still always had each other.

But here was Nina, taken and experimented on against her will. It was just this sort of thing they had volunteered to endure in order to be able to prevent. And the fact that they had just let it happen? Well, it was probably another part of why they both felt the growing need to be there for her…to look out for her; not only were they likely to be two of the very few people on the planet who would understand what she was experiencing, but they felt—in part—responsible for what had been done to her.

It was a powerful motivation.

But then Wanda glanced up to Pietro, her eyes going wide. For a split-second he was bewildered until he realized what had just happened.

He hadn't had to say a word.

She now knew the Avengers were attacking the base.

Pietro's grin reappeared as the flutter of anticipation returned. Slowly his twin stood, her eyes growing bright as her excitement began growing too. Pietro held out his hand, gesturing for her to take it so he could whisk them off to the base's control room; that's where Strucker would inevitably appear, if he wasn't there already.

And they wanted to be there so he could unleash them on the Avengers.

Her own grin appearing to match Pietro's, Wanda stepped toward him, only to hesitate for a moment. With a final glance down at Nina, Wanda leaned over, brushing a few pale strands back from where they clung to the younger girl's sticky forehead. Then, satisfied as she could be with Nina's condition, she grabbed her twin's hand. Quicker than a blink, Pietro had her in his arms and was racing to the base's command centre.

Only for List to urge them to wait for Strucker to arrive…

…and then for Strucker to all but declare they weren't ready when he finally appeared.

Well, Pietro, for one, was no longer interested in standing idly by. This was their big chance, and he fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity to, well, stretch his legs. But as he glanced to Wanda, he couldn't miss the caution in her eyes.

It was then that a woman approached Strucker and List. Vaguely, Pietro recognized her; she'd been in and out of the base sporadically over the last several weeks, not that he and Wanda had had any real interaction with her.

"It's been confirmed that all the Avengers are present, Sir," she said as soon as she stopped next to Strucker and List, her voice holding a trace of a Russian accent. Strucker shot her an impatient look before turning away.

"We anticipated as much. They're after—"

"They brought Rykova with them." Strucker paused midsentence as the woman interrupted, his brow furrowing with thought at this apparently unexpected development as he turned back to her. Next to Pietro, Wanda tensed, her expression growing faintly perplexed. But before Pietro could do much more than squeeze his twin's hand, the dark-eyed woman had pressed on, her face lighting up with an unsettling eagerness.

"We don't need her anymore. You have the girl. Let me take out Rykova." Pietro glanced to Wanda in confusion, expecting to see a similar lack of understanding on her face. But his incomprehension only grew at the sight of a different brand of bewilderment, hers shadowed with alarm.

"And you think you can take her out?" The woman's dark eyes flashed with indignant fury, but Strucker merely turned away again. "You are no match for her, Katerina. Perhaps before her Enhancement, you could have managed to kill her, but certainly not anymore. And you are still too valuable to waste on such a foolish vendetta. No. Leave her alone for now."

Without a second glance, he turned away from the woman to address those scattered throughout the base's almost chaotic control-centre, drawing the attention of everyone still dashing and scurrying around in an effort to coordinate their force's countermeasures against the Avengers. Pietro paid him little attention, especially when he noticed that everyone in the room, List included, were focused solely on the German Baron's bolstering speech.

This time, when he glanced to his twin, there was no hesitation. With the barest of nods, he was whisking them away. He only slowed down when Wanda's arms tightened around his neck. Gently, he set his twin down once he'd ducked down an abandoned corridor on one of the middle levels of the base, the bottom floor of the upper fortress; the main keep, if it were to still be considered in a castle's terms. Not that it really resembled a true castle at all, anymore, save for its most cursory appearance.

A thoughtful look on her face, Wanda turned to Pietro before moving closer to one of the corridor's windows. Flashes of blue seemed to arc and glint through the tree cover down below them. There was definitely a fight going on down there. The faint, muffled sound of it was just barely able to make it up to the main buildings of the old fortress where the Twins stood. The ground shook sporadically as the huge energy-cannon embankments that littered the hillside and the base's causeway fired at the distant flying shape circling and swooping around the base. Pietro felt himself tense in recognition: Iron Man.

Stark really was here.

Pietro was practically bouncing, he was so eager to escape the confines of the base. But he hesitated. He didn't want to leave Wanda, and he could tell from the way she held back that she didn't feel ready for an outright fight, not like he was. And neither did she want to leave the base, not yet. His suspicions as to why were confirmed at the unconscious glance she sent in the direction of the labs.

She didn't feel right leaving the other girl undefended; it seemed neither of them held much faith in Strucker or his men anymore. Without having to say a word he nodded his understanding to her, fighting back a mischievous grin at the way she relaxed minutely. But it didn't ease the sudden shadow of worry in her eyes.

"Be careful," she ordered, her expression perfectly serious. Pietro couldn't help but roll his eyes. Really, she should know by now… "You will be careful, Pietro," she insisted, exasperation making its way into her tone. Enjoying himself too much in the wake of his anticipation to get out into the fray, he gave an exaggerated sigh. Of course, his twin saw through it in an instant, a glimmer of fond amusement surfacing in her blue-green eyes.

"Am I ever not?" She scoffed at his bluster, her hands fluttering at her sides in a helpless gesture.

"You are too reckless sometimes, Pietro," she scolded, "you act without thinking!" He shrugged, grinning impishly back at her this time.

"No. I think over everything. It doesn't look it, I know, but I do. I can't help it if I can think faster than everyone else." Wanda scoffed again at his brash arrogance, but her eyes were still glimmering happily even as a trace of a laughing grin played about her lips. Smiling, Pietro ducked in to wrap her in a one-armed hug as he placed a kiss just above her ear even as she hugged him lightly back, her shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. Then, fighting to hide her affectionate expression behind one of exasperation, she pushed at his side, purposefully tickling at his ribs as she did so.

"Go, or the fighting's going to be over before you get out there." Obeying her silent and voiced prompting, he stepped back toward to main corridor.

"And there I would have thought you'd be okay with that," he threw back at her with mock exasperation of his own.

"Yes, only then I'd have to put up with you pouting about missing your fun," she teased back. Pulling out an exaggerated affronted look, Pietro only scoffed in response. Then, with a final reassuring grin to answer the re-emerging look of concern on his twin's face, he was off.

And did he ever enjoy himself. Far more than he anticipated. And he had anticipated enjoying himself a great deal.

Getting under the archer's skin had been entirely too satisfying, and Pietro hadn't been able to hold in his sense of accomplishment and pride at how easy it had been to get a good hit in on _Captain America_. True, he'd taken the legendary soldier by surprise and the older Enhanced had recovered easily enough…but still.

But it wasn't long at all before it was obviously time to go. Pietro felt like he'd barely made it out into the fight before Strucker's soldiers were surrendering and the Avengers had made their way inside the base. Even as Pietro raced back inside the fortress, there was no sign of Strucker anywhere, his own men wondering where he was, what to do next before simply surrendering.

Pietro felt nothing as he passed the beaten and incapacitated soldiers strewn throughout the corridors—evidence that Strucker’s force was soundly beaten—save a small flicker of vindication. He had admired the man's sense of conviction and the gifts the man's vision had given him and his sister. He was grateful for what the Baron had done for him and Wanda, but that admiration had faded and the gratitude diminished the instant Nina had been dragged in against her will to be experimented on.

That had rubbed the young Sokovian the wrong way.

No, he felt nothing at the realization that the Baron was done for and destined to be locked up for the rest of his life…if he survived the attack at all.

Taking full advantage of his gift, Pietro dashed through the base, intent on finding Wanda and getting them both away from there. If the Avengers got their hands on either of them, neither Pietro nor Wanda would ever see the light of day again. Of that, Pietro was absolutely certain. And he was not at all interested in being locked away 'for public safety' or worse, becoming a lab rat for Avenger scientists to pick apart. And he knew Wanda felt the same way. Their quest for vengeance would be over if that were to happen. The Avengers and their allies would only see them both as a threat…which, admittedly, they were.

But Pietro was brought up short in his race through the base to find Wanda as he passed through the primary lab areas of the base. The Avengers hadn't made it that deep enough into the base, yet, so it was still virtually untouched, though abandoned.

Completely abandoned, as in, he didn't see anyone…

…including one blonde girl who had been restrained on one now very unoccupied exam table.

Pietro felt his throat threaten to close up with dread.

There were two possible explanations that immediately burst into his head.

Possibility one: Wanda had been wrong and Nina had—he didn't want to think about the likelihood of that option, but he couldn't help it.

Possibility two, and the far less likely one: the Avengers _had_ made it this far into the base and she'd been taken away already.

As he slipped into the primary lab, the one he and Wanda knew intimately, he abruptly realized he didn't know which possibility was worse…

It was then that he caught a glimpse of blonde across the lab, and Pietro's heart nearly stopped.


	23. Chapter 22

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

No matter the anxious thrum of anxiety in her chest and the simmering anger that lingered in the back of her mind, Nadine was almost bewildered to realize that she was finding the assault on Strucker's fortress exhilarating…even—and she was on the verge of resenting herself for it—fun.

For so much of her professional life, at least when it came to her second life as the Ghost, she rarely got to really take advantage of her combat skills; it was very rare that she encountered a situation where she had any true need of them. Her round with the Captain in Prague a few days before had been the first real fight she'd had in years. She'd never been involved in an engagement like this; though it prepared her for it to some extent, adaptable as Nadine and her abilities were, her training wasn't meant for pitched battles. It was her skills as a sharpshooter that she used most often, given that her reputation generally relied on her proficiency as a long distance assassin over the more challenging close-quarter and intimate approach that many others favoured; it was far easier to take out another assassin from a distance, after all, and her ego was not wrapped up in the challenge of her hits, only the success of her missions.

She had missed fighting like this. The physicality of it, the fast pace, the adrenaline. It was a fine balance of calculation, instinct and trust in her own body's abilities that, for the most part, she had enjoyed even back in the Red Room. But in the years since she'd taken up the mantle of The Ghost, she'd had only a handful of situations arise where she had to resort to close-contact fighting of any kind, and even then, she was rarely given a good fight.

Well, she was certainly getting one today; the sheer numbers that they were up against made it challenging, even if Strucker's soldiers themselves were practically substandard, especially when compared to her and the Avengers. It felt good, simply letting herself go, letting the thrill of the fight and her sharp instincts take over.

Her long-ingrained discipline and regular training had kept her skills honed, and it was more than enough to help her keep up with the Avengers. More than enough that, between her and Natasha, the perimeter guardhouse never stood a chance, the two of them breezing through the building with ease and driving out with a stolen jeep with far less effort than it should have taken. More than enough that any of Strucker's soldiers she faced had no hope against her. More than enough to take on a tank and gun embankment of her own, the competitive side of her leftover from the driving environment of the Red Room not willing to be outdone by the Avengers.

Mostly Nadine just listened to the banter the Avengers team threw around at each other, reserving her focus for the fight. But every now and then she couldn't help but get drawn into the (mostly) good-natured bickering that the team aimed at each other. The odd quip was even thrown toward her, especially when she took advantage of the gun embankment she'd cleared and turned the high powered weapon toward another a couple hundred yards away, clearing a path for the Captain and Natasha to slip through the HYDRA lines.

As nice as it felt to be fighting, it felt—bizarrely enough—nicer still to be fighting as part of a team. She'd always worked alone, and she'd always been okay with that. Not that she'd had much of a choice, really. She certainly hadn't expected to be anything more than an outsider tagging along with the team.

But strangely enough, as the Avengers pushed closer and closer to the base, Nadine nearly felt like she was a part of their team. It was surprisingly easy to fight alongside them, Nadine instinctively falling into place among them as though she'd fought with them before. She'd never experienced anything like it, save when she and Natasha had teamed up all those years before.

It was almost as exhilarating as the thrill of the fight.

And it left her feeling like she almost— _almost_ —belonged somewhere.

And that was a feeling she'd believed long since trained out of her.

Not that it stopped the anxious fear clinging like a slithering shadow in the back of her mind. She couldn't help the way she kept glancing up toward the base where it sat looking down on the small Sokovian city of Novi Grad. She couldn't just turn it off the way she'd been trained to, to compartmentalize away her frustration at being so close to getting her daughter back but still feeling a million miles away from her.

She knew Nina was up there. She just knew it. And the silent vow that she would get her daughter back repeated like a desperate mantra through her mind, fuelling her onward with a drive no previous mission had even come close to inspiring.

It was personal this time. And that made all the difference.

She was snapped back to the fight when Natasha barked out that Barton had taken a hit, only for Rogers to advise them all that there was an Enhanced in the woods as well.

As the Captain urged Stark to hurry up and get them past the energy shield—the metal-suited Avenger complying eagerly with a healthy dose his characteristic flippant remarks—Nadine's eye was caught by a HYDRA jeep roaring toward the embankment she was still perched upon.

Taking barely a heartbeat to consider, Nadine only shrugged to herself with a silent 'why not' before jamming an armed disc-charge from her belt onto the gun-base. With a running leap, she just barely cleared the embankment to land on the jeep as the mound with its gun was reduced to a flaming torrent of debris. She had barely touched down among the HYDRA soldiers in the jeep before she was springing into action.

In seconds she was sending the three soldiers flying from the vehicle, all but dragging the driver from the seat after kicking one of his fellows clear, sending the stunned soldier careening into the third to topple them both from the jeep. The driver put up a little more of a fight, but he was no match for Nadine, who easily dodged his attempt to keep her back before slamming him forward into the steering wheel and pitching him over the low door and settling herself into his seat.

A flash of lightning off to her left was more than enough indication where Rogers and Thor were. Having dimly heard the conversation going on between them and Natasha, Nadine was immediately wrenching the jeep around to intercept Rogers as he made his way up to the base. They'd said nothing about her, and Nadine had no intention of being left behind in the woods on clean-up duty.

"That's not going away anytime soon," Nadine heard Rogers mutter through her earpiece in response to Stark's quip about 'language' even as she manoeuvred her newly acquired jeep next to Rogers.

"Even having known them for as short a time as I have—especially Stark—yeah, even I know you're going to be living with that for a while," she piped up with a mischievous grin, unable to help herself. Rogers merely shot her an exasperated look before eying the jeep. Stifling an eye-roll, she gestured impatiently for him to get in.

"C'mon Captain. It's faster to drive than to run, even for you." Unexpectedly he grinned with amusement.

"Wanna bet?" The quip startled a laugh from Nadine as Rogers swung his powerful frame lightly into the jeep. Almost as soon as he landed, Nadine was hitting the throttle, sending them racing up the winding roadway up into the base.

The way was mostly cleared, Stark having taken out more than just the shield as he made his way into the base before them, but there were still plenty of HYDRA soldiers left for Nadine and Rogers to deal with. With little more than a glance at the other, the Avenger and the assassin both leapt from the jeep as Nadine sent it barrelling into the final gate left between them and the base proper. Both of them were rolling back to their feet in an instant, engaging with the HYDRA soldiers rushing to head them off.

In moments they had made their way into the base, picking off the remaining soldiers in their way. But even as her focus was locked on the fight, Nadine couldn't help the thrum of urgency beginning to grow in her chest; she was so close.

With a dull clang, Nadine sent the last HYDRA soldier headfirst into Roger's shield. The soldier had barely hit the ground before the Captain was focusing on their next moves, even going so far as to give her orders. But now that she was inside the base, Nadine was not the least bit interested in his idea to assign levels to search and clear. Nadine had one thing on her mind and one thing only: find Nina…

…and then kill Strucker and Katerina.

Not even sparing the Captain a glance, she turned to continue on down the corridor, only for a gloved hand to hook her arm, pulling her to a stop. Instantly she was spinning to fix Rogers with an incensed glare, wrenching her arm free, not that he'd been truly restraining her.

"You can't just go running off, Ryker," Rogers said firmly, ignoring the way she'd pulled irritably away. Nadine's glare didn't ease.

"You can't order me around, Rogers; I'm not part of your team. I'm just here to get my daughter back." Rogers' jaw tensed as she spoke, looking like he was restraining a few choice words for her.

"You're right, you're not an Avenger. But you asked to come along with us on this mission, so for today, you're part of our team, which means working _with_ us, not rushing off on your own." Now it was Nadine's jaw tensing as he spoke, but he didn't let up even though his firm expression eased as he continued. "Besides, you'll get your daughter back faster if we're smart about this. You clear the lower levels; I'll take the upper ones."

As though anticipating her imminent interruption as he repeated his order, the Captain cut her off with a placating raised hand, "if I find her first, you'll be the first to know, Ryker. I'm not about to get in your way on that." Though she refused to let her challenging expression fade, Nadine couldn't help how the anxious frustration building in her chest at his orders eased with his assurance. Somehow she knew he was being utterly genuine when he said he wouldn't keep her from Nina, the words ringing with an unspoken promise.

With a mute nod, the blonde assassin took a step away from him before turning and grudgingly complying with Rogers' orders.

"And Ryker," Nadine glanced back at him again, biting back a frustrated groan at the second delay. The Captain levelled her with a knowing look, "I should probably remind you not to kill Strucker if you find him first." She nearly growled at him…until she noticed the faint, hard cast to his warm blue eyes and his specific choice of words registered through her impatience; she abruptly realized it wouldn't hurt his feelings in the slightest if she ignored that directive. And he'd said nothing about Katerina. She felt her lips curl of their own accord into a faint, cool grin.

"No promises, Rogers," she responded softly. He simply nodded once. Without another word he was turning and heading deeper into the base, leaving Nadine to do the same.

There was really very little resistance left in the base, the remaining soldiers she came across proving little challenge to the blonde assassin. Distantly, Nadine registered Natasha reporting that things had wound down outside the base and Rogers deciding that Hulk wasn't needed anymore. Not long after that Rogers sent out a warning of a second Enhanced and confirmed that Strucker was in custody but unconscious for the time being; Nadine had to fight back a flash of resentment at that development.

Even more worrisome, there was still no sign of Nina. It was getting harder to keep her anxiety in check the longer they went without finding her.

But as she was wrapping up her search of the lower levels and beginning to think about meeting up with the rest of the team, Nadine was suddenly on edge, her body instinctively going loose in readiness as a faint, fleeting prickle skittered across her skin.

In an instant her side arm was in her hand, the blonde assassin swinging around only for a sharp kick to knock the compact handgun from her grip, leaving her fingers stinging. But she was already twisting away as a dark-haired blur dove at her.

With a cry of frustration, Nadine's attacker spun, a flash of metal glinting in her hand, even as Nadine ducked to avoid another powerful kick, lashing out with her own leg to nearly knock her opponent off her feet. Even as Nadine straightened, hands rising into a loose guard before her, she was met with a pair of familiar dark eyes that she hadn't seen in a lifetime, but was suddenly immensely pleased to see.

"Hello Katerina."


	24. Chapter 23

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

"Hello, Katerina," Nadine said, her voice low and darkly pleased. Katerina grinned just as menacingly.

"Nadya. This has been a long time coming; ready to die for real this time?"

"I'm not the one who's going to die, Zhirova," Nadine said calmly back, forcing her body to stay loose as the dark-eyed woman began to circle.

Eyes not leaving the other woman for an instant, Nadine pulled the comm from her ear and tossed it aside, ignoring Natasha's sudden cry of warning through the earpiece as the redhead realized what was happening. She wasn't interested in having the Avengers in her head for this fight. Nadine fought back a snarl as she shifted, matching Katerina's movements, testing her as she was being tested. "You gave Strucker my daughter." Katerina's grin widened, but she ignored the accusation.

"They almost destroyed me because of you." The dark-eyed woman lashed out with a hard kick, just barely missing Nadine. "They moved up my Graduation because of you; then they told me to find you. And if I failed?" The blonde assassin was already twisting out of the way, turning to grab at her old groupmate's ankle and wrenching Katerina off balance.

But Katerina recovered quickly, shifting her weight so that she was taking advantage of Nadine's move. The first swing Nadine managed to dodge, but the other woman adjusted, managing to land a hard, close-quarter kick to Nadine's side that nearly had her crumpling from the force. But, knowing that to do otherwise was likely to get her killed, she forcibly shoved the pain as far away as she could. The Treatments may not have worked on Katerina, but there was no denying that she was a powerful woman who knew how to make the most of the strength she had. As her breath gusted out of her, Nadine jerked instinctively away from yet another strike from the other woman, just barely redirecting the blow before she caught her opponent hard across the face with her elbow. Katerina cried out in surprise as her lip split, her expression darkening as she probed the bleeding wound with careful fingers.

"It was the last test, you know, finding you," Katerina snarled, lunging forward. "I almost managed it too; I almost had you outside Kiev." Nadine blocked the violent sequence of punches, slashes and kicks Katerina rained down on her, forcing the blonde to stagger back. She gasped in pained surprise as Katerina managed to pay her back for her lip, opening up a gash along Nadine's cheekbone. "They'd have made me Black Widow if I'd caught you, you know. You were the best, after all, until Romanoff caught Madame B's eye." Nadine couldn't help but laugh at the declaration. It was enough to startle the dark-eyed assassin, giving Nadine a chance to regroup, an opportunity she took full advantage of as she caught hold of and twisted Katerina's wrist, jerking the other woman off balance and giving herself enough time to properly settle herself before lunging. Rage flashed in Katerina's eyes as the tables turned on her, suddenly struggling to hold her own as Nadine was now the one on the offensive.

"She had Madame B's eye even before I left, Zhirova. I was never going to be Black Widow; you certainly were not, even if you had found me." She was goading her former groupmate and Katerina knew it. A brittle, jagged smile pulled at Katerina's mouth as she forced herself to ignore Nadine's taunts.

"If I hadn't found HYDRA when I did, they probably would have killed me, you know. Keeping tabs on you wasn't enough; they wanted you dead, and I hadn't delivered. You were their star pupil; I was never supposed to live to Graduation, no matter that I deserved it. And I did, just as I deserved the place I carved out for myself, working for HYDRA's Inner Circle before they were stroked off and Strucker inherited me." The jagged grin became a smug glower.

"And I did that by giving them you…and giving Strucker your daughter." The declaration only broke Nadine's focus for a split-second, but it was enough. With a deft, twisting roll, Katerina managed to evade Nadine's swinging fist and latch onto her arm, pulling the blonde off balance. With an angry cry, Nadine let the other woman pull her off balance to drop to one knee. A victorious laugh burst from Katerina. A spear of pain lanced up from her knee as she landed hard on the stone floor, but Nadine ignored it, forcing back a laugh of her own as Katerina did exactly what the blonde anticipated; Katerina got too close as she lunged in to kick Nadine's supporting leg out from under her before going in to end it.

With silent, calculated precision Nadine pushed herself around and up to meet her old groupmate, curling her leg around the other woman's weight-bearing leg even as she used Katerina's momentum against her. She was done playing games. Taking full advantage of her enhanced speed and strength, in a matter of seconds and a handful of precise, calculated moves, Nadine had Katerina pinned on her back.

The fight was over, and Katerina knew it. Nadine's eyes were piercing, glacial shards as they glared down at her former groupmate.

"I should have killed you years ago," Nadine admitted, her tone as cool and deadly as her gaze. Even pinned as she was, vulnerable and at Nadine's mercy, Katerina had the audacity to grin, the blood from her split lip staining her teeth morbidly. She raised her upper body as close to Nadine as she could manage, pinned as she was.

"You should have," she hissed, a nearly hysterical cast to her tone. Nadine just looked down at her impassively.

"Where's Nina?" Katerina only laughed at the question, falling back against the flagstones.

"Have you any idea how many volunteers Strucker had," the dark-eyed woman's eyes closed, as though recalling a fond memory; it was all for show. She was trying to get under Nadine's skin. "Do you know how many volunteered for the chance to become Enhanced?" Nadine hesitated, eying her former groupmate warily as the anxious fear their fight had pushed aside returned with a vengeance at the growing glint in Katerina's eyes. "They died screaming, you know, as the Sceptre's power ripped them apart."

"I don't care about them," Nadine snarled, hands clenching tight on Katerina's jacket, wrenching her upward with a jerk, "I only care about my daughter. Where's Nina!" Katerina chuckled almost cheerfully before abruptly wrenching her arm free from Nadine's hold. With a faint metallic 'snick,' a short, gleaming blade slid out of Katerina's wristguard just fast enough that Nadine couldn't quite keep it from slicing into her side. As a sharp blaze of pain bloomed against her ribcage, Nadine managed to swallow most of her reaction, though a faint, startled cry gasped from her throat.

But the pain faded quickly from her awareness, the adrenaline from the fight, her anger and her desperation causing Nadine to react instinctively, snatching at Katerina's forearm even as she drew back to strike again, wrenching the blade free from the other woman's wristguard and making quick use of it herself before even truly deciding to do so. Katerina's eyes widened involuntarily, a soft groan choking free from her throat as her own blade was used against her. Grimly satisfied that Katerina was again subdued, Nadine leaned forward, her free hand bracing against her groupmate's chest.

"Where's. My. Daughter," she ground out again. Katerina merely shifted with a grimace that nearly resembled a grin, trying to lean up toward the blonde again despite Nadine's restraining palm. It forced her own blade to twist further in her side as she did so, the dark-eyed woman not seeming to care that the attempt was causing her to bleed out faster.

All the blood drained from Nadine's face as Katerina answered, her dark gaze sharp and cruel.

"With the other volunteers by now, I imagine," Nadine didn't even register her grip loosening as horror began flooding through her, Katerina's hissing words echoing and burning through her like acid. "Strucker believed she inherited some Enhancement from you and her assassin daddy and that it would help her survive his experiments; nonsense if you ask me. He started on her almost as soon as she got here." Nadine couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She searched Katerina's face—her eyes specifically, as they'd been her tell for as long as Nadine had known her—for any hint, any trace of falsehood, desperate to catch her out in a lie. The HYDRA agent's gaze was unwavering and unrepentant.

There was no lie in her eyes.

And Nadine's hand closed around Katerina's throat.

The satisfaction only intensified on Katerina's face as she realized she'd done what she'd intended; she'd gotten to Nadine and snapped her control. But it felt like she'd done more than that. Nadine felt something more than her control break inside her; it was as though her heart, her reason and her restraint had cracked all at once.

Everything seemed to turn off; every emotion, every pain, every thought of her little girl, all of it. She was cold, hard, hollow…ruthless. The mother in her was shunted aside, devastated and broken and helpless. The Ghost took over. And the Ghost knew nothing of mercy when fixed on her target.

The Ghost felt nothing but purpose.

She felt nothing as the shadow of fear began to surface in those dark eyes. She felt nothing as Katerina's body began to struggle instinctively beneath her, smearing the blood that was pooling beneath the deep wound on her side. Her glittering eyes were growing dull, but the laughing glint was still there, refusing to fade.

A mindless rage simmered beneath the blankness that had come over her. Nadine wanted to choke that glint away, the urge dark and visceral and uncontrollable in the face of Katerina's words and the only conclusion to be drawn from them reverberating like a shockwave inside her skull to the exclusion of all rational thought. Even the desperate denial and the bitter, consuming grief was silenced.

She couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop.

Distantly, someone else was speaking, yelling even. But Nadine didn't care. Her fingers tightened further, desperate to erase the horrible, unsaid words that laughed behind the other woman's vacant eyes.

And then an arm was wrapping around Nadine's shoulders and another around her waist as she was wrenched back, the single-minded purpose holding her together snapping as her grip on Katerina's throat did. A hoarse, furious cry broke free from the blonde even as she thrashed against the pair of strong arms pulling her away, fighting to free herself.

"Let me go," she shrieked, her voice cracking and frantic, all but mindless as her desperate, grief-fuelled rage finally crashed in on her, "let me—let me go—" After a heartbeat her training kicked in and she twisted in such a way that the hold finally broke, and in her hysterical, infuriated state, she immediately turned on the one who had pulled her away, not even hearing the way he called her name, trying to get through to her. Pained grunts answered her lashing fists as her first few strikes hit home, but she was unfocused and disoriented from the intensity of her grief and fury that he was quick to recover, catching her wrists easily.

"Nadine!" Somehow it was enough to snap her back to herself, her blurred gaze flashing up to meet his. Captain Rogers' gaze was wary as he watched her, his brow furrowed with bewilderment and concern.

He didn't understand.

It was too much, and the blurring worsened, Nadine barely comprehending as the first hot tear spilled over onto her cheek. It startled Rogers, whose grip abruptly eased. Her rage bleeding away with every panting, ragged breath, Nadine's face fell to her freed hands, her head throbbing as her entire body began to ache from the weight of Katerina's cruel taunting and what it implied.

"Ryker, what happened?" Nadine choked at his cautious question. She could only shake her head as it felt like her heart finished breaking, no longer held precariously together by her rage-fuelled purpose. His hand landed on her shoulder, his grip firm and steadying. But it did little to stem the flood of despair and the emptiness of her failure from rising in her chest. She couldn't breathe. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she sank to the cool floor. She barely noticed Steve lowering himself to kneel next to her, his hand still on her shoulder.

"Nadine?"

"She's gone…she didn't—she—they ki—" a harsh, gasping sob tore through her, keeping her from voicing her worst fear, her living nightmare. Rogers paused, his grip easing for an instant with surprise and confusion before tightening again.

"What?" But then realization seemed to hit him and his voice softened, "your daughter?" Nadine choked again, unable to say anymore, her shoulders falling as she suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl in on herself and whither away for her anguish. Steve's other hand rose to land on her other shoulder, turning her to face him, giving her a gentle shake to draw her attention back to him. She nearly started at the faint, hesitant frown on his face.

"Nadine, one of the Enhanced took her with him when they abandoned the base. She's okay. She's just…not here."


	25. Chapter 24

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

The lab wasn't as abandoned as he'd thought.

A breath of relief gusted out of Pietro as he caught sight of Nina stretched out on the cot in one of the isolation cells, still restrained despite the thick glass and her unconscious and obviously weakened state. But she was still alive; he could see her chest rising and falling with the same shallow, laboured breaths as earlier.

But as he forcibly moved himself past the thoughts that she had succumbed to the Sceptre's power, another thought hit him.

They would lock her up too, he realized angrily. Strucker had begun the experiments on her that had succeeded on him and his twin. It was still far too early to tell if they had taken—despite Wanda's insistence that they had—but the procedure hadn't killed her yet…so there was a chance that she was now just like him and Wanda: Enhanced.

She hadn't asked for it, hadn't volunteered like they had. She didn't deserve to be locked away and studied because of what Strucker did to her.

Pietro made his decision almost before he'd realized there was a decision to make.

In the space of a heartbeat, he had dashed through the lab to the bank of reinforced glass-walled cells, broken in to free the slight blonde from her restraints and, after carefully picking her up, was whisking her back out of the base and safely away from the Avengers.

Admittedly, she wouldn't exactly be safe—Pietro knew better than to think that; none of them would ever be 'safe' again—but she would be safe from falling into the hands of Tony Stark and the Avengers. And that was something.

In moments he'd reached the old, now abandoned, apartment where he and Wanda had been living before they'd signed up for Strucker's Experiments. It was one of the first places he'd visited during his unsanctioned excursions shortly after he and Wanda had been released from isolation, only to discover the whole building had been abandoned; condemned since they had left for Strucker's base.

Quite soon after, by the look of it.

Not that that had exactly been a surprise… But Pietro had taken it as a good sign, and pegged the old building and the familiar apartment as a safe place to go if he and his twin ever needed it. After all, it never hurt to be prepared. It was something being on their own had taught him and Wanda at an early age. It wasn't much, especially since the already poorly maintained building was even worse off since being abandoned, but it was shelter and it was a place where they could hide. He hadn't even told Wanda about it yet.

Laying Nina out on the sad-looking old couch that had been left behind—not that they'd had much when they'd lived here, but what little there was had been long since scavenged—Pietro straightened, stepping back before he could race off to reunite with his twin. But before he could dart away, he found his gaze drawn back to the girl laying on the couch sitting lonely and almost forlorn in the nearly empty room.

She looked chilled in the still, unheated air of the abandoned apartment. Her cheeks were still flushed and fevered as her body trembled and shivered. As he looked back at her, he found he couldn't leave her just yet.

It was an odd compulsion, but Pietro found himself unwilling to dismiss it. With a gust, he'd collected a blanket—slightly less neglected-looking than the rest of the apartment's sparse furnishings—and had tucked it in around her. It was only then that he was satisfied enough to leave…though part of him was still uneasy about leaving Nina alone at all, especially in her current state. But he needed to retrieve Wanda. He was anxious enough already at having left her alone in Strucker's base with the Avengers closing in. Even knowing as he did that she was more than capable of dealing with anyone who dared to mess with her, he couldn't help it. Knowing she could take care of herself didn't stop him from worrying more the longer they were separated; call it his protective brotherly instincts.

But just as he was turning to race back to the base, a flicker of movement caught his attention. Turning back to Nina, Pietro was startled to see her stirring, wincing with every trembling move, her large eyes blinking blearily as she took in her surroundings before her movements began to grow jerky with panic. Though moving at a pace far more in-line with what a regular person could manage—and far slower than he would have liked—he was still at her side in an instant. Part of him was insisting that moving as fast as he was now capable of just now would only serve to freak her out more, and he was willing to listen to that instinct as he registered the terror and panic in her wide eyes.

"What's going on," she was gasping, still having trouble breathing evenly, not that her panic was helping any. Her movements painfully uncoordinated thanks to the spasming muscles Pietro remembered all too well, Nina struggled to sit up, kicking herself free from the blanket Pietro had wrapped so carefully around her. Her eyes roved the room wildly in her alarm before they latched intently on Pietro as he lowered himself down onto the couch next to her. With careful, measured movements, Pietro was pushing her back down onto the worn cushions…bewilderingly soothing sounds coming from him. It was a strange feeling, this urge to help her, to care for her.

"It's okay, Nina, you're safe." Though her breathing was slowly beginning to even out, it was no less pained as she fixed her set of anxious blue-grey eyes firmly on Pietro as he spoke. The intensity of her panic thankfully began to fade, but the alarm lingered as wariness surfaced to join it. After a tense heartbeat she began leaning away from him, pressing back farther into the couch cushions, her legs curling up against her body almost like a barrier between her and him. Whether it was unconscious or not Pietro wasn't entirely sure, but he let her inch away, backing up himself to give her a little more space even as she distanced herself from him. If it helped her feel more at ease, why not. He needed her to calm down, to agree to stay put so he could return to the base for Wanda without having to worry about her. She just watched him, her whole body beginning to shake again as the tension in her frame eased, though he suspected it had more to do with exhaustion and the trauma her body had endured from the Sceptre rather than fear.

"Where am I…who are you?" she gasped out, speaking a little slower. Pietro shifted a little, not quite certain where to start; his name…where she was…what was going on…what had happened to her… Wanda was much better at things like this; even before gaining her new abilities, she'd always had a far better sense about what to say, how to act around others. She was always the one to do the talking, the one to relate to other people, the one to get them out of trouble…the one to keep them together. But before he could do more than open his mouth to answer, Nina's eyes widened further with recognition and her brow furrowed with confusion and unease.

"You were there," Pietro hesitated at the accusation that threaded through the bewilderment in her tone, "you were in that place! You and—and a girl, you were there when they—when they…what was that place?" Pietro's jaw clenched involuntarily as he realized she was quickly drawing the conclusion that he and Wanda were complicit with what had happened to her. His heart clenched as he remembered that, in a way, they had been. Regret for not stepping in when they'd had the chance to help this girl, to protect her from Strucker once again dropped like a cool, sharp stone in his gut.

"Pietro. And I took you away from there," he said as lightly as he could, shrugging carelessly, "it was a place were, well, where Baron Strucker," he paused at the confused expression that flickered over her pretty features as he mentioned the German scientist. With an impish grin, he imitated the Baron's monocle with his thumb and forefinger, unaccountably pleased at the faint, involuntary giggle that came from the slight blonde as understanding flashed across her face. But as he continued, Pietro couldn't help but sober. "Baron Strucker wanted to see if he could make Enhanced people out of, err, normal people." He hesitated again even as the words left his mouth; that wasn't exactly true either…at least, not with Nina. Strucker's comments before he'd begun the procedure on her had made it perfectly clear that this girl wasn't exactly a normal person to begin with. But from the suddenly bewildered look on her face, Pietro was suspecting she didn't know anything about that…

"Enhanced? What do you mean?" Pietro's brow furrowed slightly as he debated how best to explain before deciding it was simply easier to show her. In the space of a blink, he had dashed into the kitchenette of the apartment to retrieve a cup of water—even having gone so far as to wash the mug he'd located—holding it out to the now stunned girl curled up on the couch next to him. Her jaw had dropped, her eyes going wide as she struggled to process what just happened. Pietro just shot her a sheepish look, holding out the mug a little more insistently. Absently, she reached out to take the mug with shaking fingers, though she made no move to drink it, her large steel-blue eyes still locked on Pietro even as she recovered from her astonishment far quicker than he anticipated.

"My sister and I were the only ones his experiments worked on," he offered, shifting a little self-consciously under her astonished scrutiny, "she was the girl you saw back in the lab before—well, before he started on you." A slightly different, more fearful brand of shock came over her as she realized what he was saying.

"He experimented on—that's what they were doing to me?! I'm going to be like you? Because of that—that spear thing?" Pietro shrugged, uncertainty flickering across his face.

"Maybe. We have to wait, I suppose, to see if it worked."

"What do you mean?"

"What he did worked on us," Pietro answered, "but not on the other volunteers." Her already pale complexion blanched further beneath her fever-flushed cheeks. He purposefully left out the fact that it hadn't only failed to take in the others, but that it had killed them too. She was obviously frightened enough as it was, and understandably so. Telling her that wouldn't help. It was a bit of tact he was actually rather proud of in that moment.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice that he'd held something back. She was too distracted trying to wrap her head around what she was hearing. Distracted enough that she didn't even notice as he eased the mug from her loosening fingers lest she drop it.

"Volunteers? You—you volunteered for what he did with that—what he did to me?" Pietro nodded soberly, wincing at the distraught look on her face as she instinctively began to curl in on herself. "So you—you wanted him to use that thing on you? You and your sister?" He couldn't quite meet her gaze with that soft, pained question. He could practically hear the unspoken demand of _why_ she hadn't had that same choice…as well as a simple _why_ they would even want to go through that. Slowly he nodded his answer, fighting not to wince at her sharp, distressed inhale. He wasn't able to help the way he tensed, though. After a moment he looked up at her again. She had wrapped her arms protectively around her knees, hugging them close to her chest as her gaze, now far too bright, got lost looking somewhere deep inside the couch cushion between them. As though realizing he was looking at her again, Nina glanced up, fixing him with an insistent, questioning glance.

"So you were working with him?" Before he even realized he was doing it, Pietro was shaking his head, unable to help the way the anger rising in his chest began to affect the expression on his face. Confusion again flickered in her wary steel-blue eyes, though curiosity began to shadow it as she processed his reaction to her question.

"Not anymore," he ground out, "not after what he did to you." Her pale eyebrows drew together in wary bewilderment.

"So you were, but now you're not because of me? Why?" Pietro shrugged defensively, ignoring the heat suddenly beginning to creep up the back of his neck.

"We volunteered. You didn't." He said it like it was as simple as that. And on some level it was…but it also wasn't.

"That's why you helped me?" Her legs dropped as she straightened, her wariness beginning to fade as her gaze grew thoughtful. "Is that why you took me away that place? From him—from Strucker? Because I didn't volunteer?" Mutely he nodded as his gaze dropped again, another casual shrug shifting his shoulders.

"It wasn't right. And Wanda and I volunteered because, if the experiments worked, we'd be able to stop things that weren't right, get justice for the things done to us. Fix things the things that are wrong in our country, in the world," he muttered out in a rush, suddenly rather self-conscious of his and his twin's motivations for going along with Strucker's experiments. It sounded almost silly when he said it like that. Certainly naïve. A cool touch brushed against his arm, startling his gaze back to meet Nina's. A shy smile tugged at her lips.

"Thank you," she said softly. A crooked grin came to Pietro's lips.

"It felt like the least I could do," he said as nonchalantly as he could, though it still came out far more regretfully than he intended, especially as words kept spilling from his mouth before he could stop them, "especially since we didn't stop him when we realized you didn't—" he snapped his mouth shut as a dull flush threatened to cross his features. He wasn't usually so maudlin. He could almost imagine the wide-eyed expression she was likely watching him with. Clearing his throat pointedly, he leapt up from the couch, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

"Will you be okay here? For a few minutes? I need to—um, I need to go get my sister. She's still, um…there…" He glanced hesitantly back at the girl who had inexplicably unsettled him. He'd never been this flustered around girls before. But this one, with her sharp blue-grey eyes and intriguing mix of vulnerability and resilience, was different from most—if not all—of the girls he'd known. There was a steel and a fire to this girl, hiding beneath her pretty face and almost gentle demeanour. He could see it flash in her eyes as she nodded, a faintly reassuring smile coming to her lips again even as her frame seemed to sag under the weight of her exhaustion. Unable to help the way he was suddenly grinning back, he stepped back closer to the couch, grabbing up the blanket from where she'd unconsciously kicked it away and flicking it back over her.

"Get some rest," he said, injecting as much of his usual self-assurance back into his voice, "I'll be back with Wanda before you know it."

And he was off again to collect his sister.

Then they'd figure out what to do next.


	26. Chapter 25

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

With an indulgent grin, Steve turned from Tony and Thor, leaving the Asgardian and the billionaire to chat and plot about the upcoming 'revels.' He'd known it was time to back away from the conversation when Tony started talking about inviting some World War II vets so Steve would 'have someone to talk to.'

Pacing through the Quinjet, Steve couldn't help but take stock of his team again. It was a habit, and instinct even. It had been a rough outing this time, and it inevitably left him concerned for his teammates; Barton had been injured, which of course unsettled everyone, especially Natasha, even if she worked hard not to show it; Banner was now recovering from an unexpected Code Green; something else had shaken Tony—badly, not that he'd admit it—which he was now hiding extremely well. Then there'd been Ryker's episode…

For all that had gone right on this mission, a lot had also gone wrong. It had paid off, of course—Loki's Sceptre had finally been retrieved—but there had certainly been a cost. Luckily, it also seemed everyone was holding up alright, considering.

It could have been a lot worse…

Barton was resting as comfortably as could be expected. He'd even managed a snappy quip when asked how he was holding up before Steve had gone over to check in with Thor about the Sceptre.

Bruce was looking much better, Nat's efforts to bolster his spirits following the Hulk's unplanned appearance not going to waste. Even despite Thor's slip, the scientist had visibly relaxed thanks to the rest of his team's support, and that was a relief to the rest of the team, Steve noted. None of them liked seeing the reserved scientist so distraught over something he had such tenuous control over…particularly since both Banner and the Hulk were both such valuable members of the team.

Tony definitely looked better, Steve noted wryly as he glanced back to where the billionaire was still chuckling with Thor. He had no idea precisely what had been bothering Stark when he'd emerged from the bowels of Strucker's base, but he had a fair idea given what Tony had described when he told them about what all he'd found down there; they all carried troubling memories from the Battle of New York. Coming face to face with a Leviathan again? Even a dead one? Steve had a feeling he'd have been shaken too…though his gut told him there was more to it than that. But looking back at Tony, Steve pushed the thought aside. If he needed to talk about it, he would. But prying rarely got anywhere with Tony, even when the ones doing the prying were those he trusted most. If he did choose to talk about it, it would likely be Banner the billionaire chose to open up to, not Steve.

Even Nat was mostly herself again now that it was clear Barton's life wasn't in danger and Banner was slowly getting back to his own normal, unassuming self. Though, having gotten to know the redheaded spy as he had, Steve still got the feeling that something else was bothering her, and he suspected it had everything to do with what had happened to her oldest friend inside Strucker's base.

It was then that Steve realized there was a face he didn't see.

He didn't see Ryker.

Holding back a groan, he scanned the interior of the Quinjet, searching the handful of faces for the one he suddenly worried was actually missing. Immediately he was considering that she'd slipped away again the way she had in Chernivtsi, though his instincts insisted it was unlikely. He knew she had boarded the Quinjet; he'd been right behind her, watching her warily after her alarming reaction to Nina's disappearance back at Strucker's base. Whether or not she'd managed to get off again without anyone noticing? No, he decided, that was unlikely. Someone would have noticed.

Besides, given how deep in shock she'd seemed, Steve doubted very much that she had the will to even try and disappear on them. But she was a complete enigma, no matter how Steve felt he could read her most of the time despite her nearly impeccable reserve…and no matter that Natasha still felt like she knew Ryker just as she had when they'd been children together. She might very well have stolen from the Quinjet no matter the emotional condition she'd been in, her training taking over no matter her shock or the crushing despair he'd seen in her veiled eyes. Really, there was no telling what she was capable of.

The incident at the base had made that painfully clear.

Before they'd even left New York for Sokovia, Steve had pulled Natasha aside to try and gauge just that; what Ryker was capable of.

"Do you trust her," he'd asked, his voice low as he observed his friend's reaction carefully. Nat in turn had glanced over to Nadine, who had been waiting with an impatient air at the foot of the Quinjet's boarding ramp, studying the blonde woman as she thought the question over. He'd practically been able to read exactly what Natasha had been thinking from the minute flashes of emotion she'd been unable to quite hide. Did she? He'd been able to piece together just from Nat's behaviour around the blonde that Nat had trusted Ryker more than anyone once, nearly a lifetime ago when she'd been Nadya and Nat had been little more than a child. But it had been just that…a lifetime. Nadine may once have been Nadya, but there was no telling how much of Nat's friend—her _sister_ , Steve now suspected, in name though they weren't in blood—was still in the blonde assassin. Trust did not come easily to people like them. Not in their line of work, and for good reason. Natasha had made that perfectly clear when their friendship had still been new and Steve had still been adjusting to the new world he'd woken into. It had taken nearly everything burning down around them—figuratively and literally—for him and the redheaded spy to finally trust each other.

So the question came down to whether or not they could trust Nadine Ryker. And that rested on whether or not Natasha trusted her old friend.

"No," Natasha had said honestly when she'd finally looked back to Steve. It was the answer he'd anticipated. "I don't. But I trust that she is willing to do whatever it takes to get her daughter back. And right now, she needs us to do that." Steve had sighed heavily at the truth to Natasha's assessment. It was the same conclusion he'd come to. He'd looked over to the blonde then, well aware that Natasha had been watching him just as he'd been her. When he'd turned back to his teammate again, he'd known she knew what he was about to ask next. He'd seen in her eyes that she'd been asking herself the same question.

"And when she doesn't need us anymore?" At that Natasha had shrugged, looking back to Ryker.

"When that happens, we need to be ready for anything."

He hadn't been ready, not for the scene he'd come across when he'd found Ryker. Not for the woman Natasha had identified as Katerina Zhirova—the one who had given Strucker Ryker and her daughter—looking as though she were still laughing even as she lay lifeless, Nadine not seeming to register that the other woman was gone—bled out or strangled, Steve wasn't certain—even as Steve had pulled her away. In that moment before Steve had been able to get through to her that Nina was still alive, he been shaken himself at what he'd seen in her face.

She seemed so…devastated, shattered—destroyed, even—and worryingly so, once the fight and the fire in her had broken when he'd pulled her off the lifeless HYDRA agent.

Even when he'd assured her that they had proof—once they'd shown her the footage, even, that J.A.R.V.I.S. had discovered before Steve had reached her—that her daughter was still alive, if anything, she'd retreated even further into herself, barely saying a word even to Natasha as they'd wrapped up their business at the base. He couldn't help but think that she wasn't only shaken by very nearly believing her daughter had been killed by Strucker's experiments, but also by what she'd very nearly become when she'd believed it. Something in her had broken when she'd thought Nina had been killed, and Steve had the distinct feeling that that terrified the blonde assassin almost as much as the thought of losing her daughter.

The thought suddenly struck him that he wouldn't even blame her for sneaking away had she recovered herself enough to manage it. It would make a certain amount of sense. The Enhanced weren't likely to have gone far, not given the condition Nina appeared to be in from the lab's surveillance. There was a chance they were still in Sokovia, possibly even still in Novi Grad for the time being.

But even so, Nadine had to realize that her best chance to find the Enhanced, and by extension Nina, lay with the Avengers and their resources.

Unless she didn't believe them when both he and Natasha had said they would help her find her daughter now that their own mission had been completed.

He had to admit, he wouldn't exactly blame her for thinking that, either.

She'd been alone and unable to trust anyone but herself for a long time, after all.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of pale hair peeking out from a hunched, blanket-wrapped bundle in the farthest corner of the main cabin, about as far away from anyone else as the confined space allowed. For all that Ryker—Nadine—was slightly taller than the average woman, she looked so small curled up against the bulkhead, her forehead laying tiredly on her folded and blanket-enveloped limbs. She looked completely apart from everyone else on the Quinjet, like they all might as well not even be there.

But she wasn't quite so lost inside her head as she appeared. As he approached she looked up, nearly causing him to falter. When he'd first encountered her, he never would have expected to see such an expression on this woman's face, and now he'd seen it not once, but twice. As she looked up at him now, though, she seemed far more herself than she had back at Strucker's base, but traces of the lost and defeated expression still lingered, especially in her closed-off grey eyes. It was still disconcerting to see, and he couldn't help but equate the look to the one he'd seen on Natasha's face as they'd sat in Sam's place after learning HYDRA had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D.. It was unsettling to see such a vulnerable expression in a face that only ever seemed to exude an almost impossible level of self-confidence and self-assurance. Seeing that expression in Nadine now, even if it wasn't so intense and consuming as it had been back in Sokovia?

He tried to give her a reassuring look, but he couldn't tell how successful it was; her expression didn't change, though the worry in her eyes only seemed to deepen.

"You'll get her back, Ryker," he found himself assuring her softly as he lowered himself down next to her, "we will help you find her." She replied only with a tight, half-hearted smile.

After a long, quiet moment she sighed heavily, her legs unfolding from beneath the shock blanket she had huddled beneath.

"That doesn't take away from the fact that I failed her in the first place," she said just as softly, the faintest of wavers in her voice. "I didn't protect her well enough." Steve shook his head slowly.

"You didn't fail her, Nadine. You protected her as best you could. And you're going to do everything you can to get her back safe and sound. I barely know you and I can tell you'd do anything for her. You'll find her." Again, she smiled wanly, though it still didn't reach her troubled eyes.

"But it wasn't enough, was it," the waver grew more pronounced, "they still found me, and through me found her. The only reason Strucker wanted her was because of what _I_ am." She sighed heavily again, shifting against the bulkhead before glancing to Steve, a brittle, almost patronizing half-smile curling her lips.

"If you ever have kids, you'll understand," she said, her voice thick with resignation. It was said sympathetically enough, as though she didn't blame him for not understanding, but her expression had grown veiled, the blonde assassin's face no longer so open as it had been a moment before. Oddly enough, Steve found it reassuring. He huffed in response to her statement, glancing around to the rest of his team.

"I don't know," he said lightly, earning a curious glance from the blonde. He bit back a grin as he gestured to the rest of his team, "with this bunch? Sometimes I feel like I'm parenting all of them." A faint sound came from Nadine, and when Steve glanced back to her, he was pleased to find a genuine trace of amusement on her face as she fought back a laugh. Something in him eased at the sound and the renewed spark in her grey eyes. It felt…good, to see her finally waking up from the despair that had gripped her until now.

"That's not at all hard to imagine," she remarked easily back with a light laugh before adding on, "especially with the man-child that is Stark." Steve couldn't hold back his own chuckles any longer. They both nearly burst into peals of laughter as, only a moment later, Stark was announcing in his characteristically theatrical way that they were approaching the Avenger's Tower. Around them, the tenor of the Quinjet's engines shifted, reinforcing Stark's warning that they were on approach to their Tower.

As Steve started to stand, the light brush of her hand on his arm caused him to pause and glance back at the blonde. There was nothing insincere about the gratitude in her eyes.

"Thank you, Captain Rogers," she said softly. Steve smiled warmly back, ignoring the odd warmth in his chest as she smiled up at him.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, "and Steve is fine." She smiled again, nodding slightly in recognition.

"Thank you, Steve." Straightening, Steve held out a hand, pleased that she took it and allowed him to help her to her feet. There was still a long way to go before she trusted him and he trusted her, but it was a start.

But as she stood, Steve caught sight of a small pool of blood where she'd been sitting and a faint, dark smear on the bulkhead she'd been leaning against. Another surreptitious look told him the blanket she was pulling from around her shoulders bore a similar stain; she was injured. Suddenly, he wasn't looking so covertly anymore, his eyes scanning her frame before zeroing in on the vibrant trail of blood trickling down her side from just below her ribcage, turning the pale grey of her uniform a rich crimson as it soaked into the fabric.

"When did that happen," he asked, not bothering to try and sound anything but concerned. She merely blinked at him for a moment before twisting to look at her side when he finally glanced pointedly to her injury. The quickly hidden look on her face said she regretted the action instantly.

"Katerina caught me with a wrist-blade, near the end of our fight. It's nothing." she said, waving it off. Steve eyed her with uncertainty before glancing back to the blood on the floor, blanket and bulkhead. It was a little more than nothing.

"That's a lot of blood, Ryker," he countered softly. She glanced up at him, a flicker of bewilderment in her grey eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as he'd spotted it, leaving him with a faint feeling of sorrow that the idea of someone being concerned for her was so foreign to the blonde assassin.

"You should get it looked at," he advised, a trace of command-borne insistence threading through the comment. She smiled tightly at the remark, only just barely keeping the extent of her discomfort hidden away.

"I'm fine. It's already healing. Another day or two and I'll be as good as new. Perk of being Enhanced," she quipped dryly. Steve couldn't help but chuckle. But as the Quinjet settled down he found himself sobering, especially as two of Dr. Cho's assistants rushed in the moment the hatch had opened to whisk Barton off the jet and out to where Dr. Cho could be seen approaching with an expression of concern and calculation on her face. As he watched Natasha disappear into the tower with Barton and the focused team of doctors while Maria Hill made her way toward the jet, he turned back to Nadine, his expression unmistakably resolved.

"Perk or not, it needs to be checked out. As soon as Dr. Cho has stabilized Barton, get her to take a look at you too." Nadine's grey eyes flashed with annoyance at Steve, especially when it became apparent that he wasn't going to let up anytime soon. But there was also no mistaking the stubborn glint hiding behind the annoyance. As Steve turned back to gather up his things, Nadine was already virtually storming out of the jet after Thor, though her collected pace and relaxed stance said nothing of the sort.

Even as Hill called out to Stark and Stark made his requisite quips back, Steve couldn't help but grin at the blonde's reaction.

Nadine was going to be okay, and for some reason, that was a huge relief to the Captain.


	27. Chapter 26

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

It was after dark when Pietro returned to the apartment, and he was beginning to feel the strain of being on the move all day. Between scouting out potential places for them to hide out, looking after his twin and their new companion and running, err, errands, it had been a long day. And despite his abilities, he was not impervious to fatigue.

Regardless of how tired he felt, he managed to plaster a smile onto his face as he gathered up the bag of supplies he's acquired for the three of them, carrying them into the kitchenette where Wanda appeared to be making tea of some sort. With power, gas, water and so on cut to the building the same time it had been condemned and the few remaining tenants evicted, they'd had to improvise a few basic amenities to make the apartment even halfway comfortable. A small portable camp-stove that Pietro had found currently sat on top of the regular stove while a somewhat worse-for-wear old 5-gallon water jug sat not far away on the counter. He'd been sincerely tempted to pick up something nicer, but he knew better than to test Wanda's disapproving stance on his 'shopping' habits.

There was little doubt that she knew where he got the things he brought home. But they were rather limited for options. They had no money, no jobs and the prospect of getting either through legitimate means was rather slim at the moment. They were both wanted, after all. Which was why he suspected Wanda hadn't said a word of warning or censure about Pietro's acquisition of supplies; it was their only option just now. Because of his abilities, it was far easier for him to stay off the radar than Wanda, which was why Wanda had been staying close to the apartment with Nina while Pietro had been the one to venture out.

Not that it was the only reason she preferred to stay behind. No, the main reason Wanda had been sticking to the apartment was Nina.

The slight blonde had gotten worse since the base fell and Pietro had whisked her and his twin away from there. Her muscle spasms had gotten more intense as the first night in the unheated apartment had passed, her reaction to the Sceptre's power exacerbated by the damp chill of the early spring nights in Sokovia. She'd barely gotten any sleep thanks to how badly her body had been shaking and tensing, and what little she'd managed had been fitful as her fever would ease before worsening again. And that wasn't even taking into account the aches and pains wracking her body, or of the headaches that made even blinking draw whimpers of pain from her.

It brought up memories already far too close to the surface for the Twins. They both remembered going through the exact same thing, though to Pietro the physical pain that had burned throughout his body had been by far the worst part, while Wanda had revealed to him once they'd been allowed back in each other's company that for her it had been the headaches, the sensation getting progressively worse until she'd been almost beyond feeling them. It had gotten so bad, she said, that she'd nearly believed someone had opened up her skull with a sledgehammer and stuffed needles and burning pokers and razor wire in with her brain before closing it all back up again.

She hadn't even been able to cry or scream at the agony of it, the effort proving to only make it worse.

She still had nightmares from it, the intensity of the phantom pain prickling and clenching through her mind. Just as for Pietro it still raced and wrenched through his own dreams, causing his joints to feel like they were once again clenched in iron vices being twisted impossibly tight as his very blood felt like it was simultaneously freezing and boiling through his veins. Thankfully, bad as they were, the nightmares would always pale in comparison to the original experience. It was something to be grateful for, that was for sure.

And they were beginning to fade. Slowly, as night after night passed, Pietro was finding the old nightmares from the day they lost their parents re-emerging from where the memory of Strucker's experiments had exiled them. It was almost a relief, bizarrely enough, to be confronted with reliving those horrible two days after reliving the Sceptre's effects on their bodies. Wanda had been a wreck the first time her nightmare from those days had returned, not because it was worse, per se, than the experiment dreams, but because the old, familiar nightmare had returned. She'd been so conflicted over the realization that she'd barely spoken, even to Pietro, for days. He'd been far more accepting, the small, secret part of him that looked forward to the nightmares relieved when they'd returned. Not only because they reaffirmed his reason for putting himself through the experiments in the first place…but also because the dream always started with those few, happy moments before the first shell had struck, when his mother had been teasing him for not wanting to eat, well, he couldn't remember what exactly…it was something different each time.

It was with a wan smile that Wanda looked up to him as he approached, her shoulders relaxing with relief when he pulled out the medications he'd broken back into the base to retrieve—painkillers mostly, and a few others that he had recognized from his own treatment immediately post-treatment—when it became clear that Nina's symptoms weren't getting any better. Wanda had been hesitant when he'd suggested going back for them, fearful of somehow making it worse thanks to their own lack of medical training, but as Nina had gotten worse…

"Thank you," she breathed, taking the bottles and the small kit of syringes from her brother and kissing him gratefully on the cheek before returning to Nina's side. Though tempted to follow, part of him wanting to _see_ that his attempts to be helpful had paid off, Pietro stayed in the little kitchen, picking absently at the disintegrating countertop as he waited for the kettle Wanda had been watching to boil.

It wasn't long before it did, just as it didn't take Wanda long to return to his side, her features still pinched with worry even if not to the extent that they'd been even a few minutes before.

"How is she," Pietro finally asked warily as he handed the mug he'd just poured the fresh-boiled water into to Wanda, grabbing up a waiting teabag from the counter and dropping it into the mug as he looked to his twin. Wanda bit back a worried sound, worrying her lip as she took over fiddling with the tea bag while he prepared a second and third cup, a second teabag going in one and a waiting packet of instant chicken soup going into the second.

"Not good," she admitted softly after a moment, putting her tea down and taking over preparing the cup of soup, adding in her own herbs and other ingredients to steep in the broth before looking up to Pietro. "But no worse off than we were at the same stage. They said we were like that for over fourteen hours," she hesitated, glancing first back to their fitfully sleeping companion before looking to the clock she had propped on the counter next to the now useless fridge, "and she's about eleven into it as we speak. It should ease overnight." Though her voice was firm, there was an undercurrent of anxious doubt to her words that Pietro didn't miss. She was afraid that Nina wouldn't make it past this stage…the stage that had killed most of the other volunteers who had made it past the initial exposure to the Sceptre's energy. Pietro's nodded absently, forcing a semi-confident smile to his face as he brushed a lock of Wanda's hair back from her face.

"Then only another three or so hours to go," he said with an assurance he was pretending he felt. Another wan smile pulled at Wanda's lips, a trace of gratitude flickering across her face. But then she sighed heavily, fingering the handle of the mug meant for Nina as her eyes betrayed her suddenly conflicting thoughts.

"We've got to keep moving," Wanda said finally softly, looking to but not seeming to see Nina. Pietro glanced toward the blonde himself before looking back to his twin. "They're going to be looking for us, especially since we engaged the Avengers." Pietro scoffed, earning a faintly reprimanding look from Wanda.

"They won't catch us, even if they do bother to coming after us." Wanda's admonishing glance turned distant and thoughtful again before focusing for real on Nina. And anxious, worried sound escaped her throat.

"Eventually they will trace us back here, and we need to be gone before they do." Pietro was tempted to scoff again, but restrained himself at the genuine worry on his twin's face. He doubted anyone would be able to track them to this apartment.

True, they'd lived here before the experiments, but they'd been careful even then to keep themselves off the grid; they'd figured at least one of them had a warrant for their arrest out there somewhere thanks to the protesting they'd done against the government. So they'd always paid their rent in cash and had chosen a building where the landlord had little interest in documenting who his tenants were so long as he had them. And now it was abandoned and virtually falling down around them. Even as Pietro was contemplating that, at the very least, no one would be able to follow him back to the apartment, Wanda was turning her solemn blue-green eyes back to him.

"And when we do finally move, she is going to slow us down." It was a pure statement of fact, but Pietro bristled regardless.

"We couldn't leave her behind," he snapped out before forcing a self-assured grin to his face, "besides, they'll be expecting us to move quickly. We'll throw them off by moving a little slower." He paused again before grinning for real. "Not that we'll be moving that much slower," he added cheekily. It almost drew a smile from Wanda. She glanced at him again, a worried light growing in her eyes.

"But they know we have her with us. They'll know we won't be able to move as quickly, even if they don't know her condition." Pietro frowned.

"Why would they know we have her?" he questioned, a defensive note making its way into his tone, earning a startled but impatient look from his twin.

"You went and got her, Pietro. The Avengers or someone else is bound to look at the cameras—you know, the ones Strucker had on the isolation cells to observe us?—and see you getting her. You had to slow down to pick her up, yes? Even if you didn't, no one can move as fast as you. Whether the cameras caught you or not, they'll make the connection that you're the one who took her from the cells." Pietro could feel his face fall; she was right. But he brushed it off.

"And what would it matter to them, anyway? She had nothing to do with any of it." Wanda's worried expression deepened, her brow creasing with it as she looked up at him, her eyes flickering with hesitation.

"I—I don't know," her voice wavered as she turned back to Nina again, causing Pietro to glance to her as well. The blonde was huddled on the couch, arms sandwiched between her curled legs and her shaking body. She looked for all the world like a crashing addict, with deep, harsh shadows beneath her eyes and a sickly, ashen cast to her cold-sweat coated skin. He wasn't sure anymore of her body was still fighting the Sceptre's power or adjusting to the changes it'd made. For a split-second, he could almost swear the air around her seemed to waver, but he wasn't certain enough to believe he'd done anything but imagine it. He couldn't remember precisely when his or Wanda's powers had begun to manifest, but he was fairly certain it was too early for that to be the case.

Wanda was already looking back up to him, her blue-green eyes swimming with uncertainty, her voice wavering with it as she began to speak again, "I—I don't know if taking her with us, away from the base, was the right thing anymore." Pietro started, eyes going wide as disbelief jolted angrily through him.

"What do you mean? How could you say that? You know what would have happened to her if we had left her!" Wanda winced, her eyes lowering with distress. She knew exactly what Pietro was alluding to. Nina would have disappeared, perhaps to a secret cell, perhaps for good, all for something she'd had no control over, for something that had been done to her against her will. She looked entreatingly back to Pietro before her head finally dropped to her hands.

"I don't know," she gasped, sounding on the verge of a panic attack. In an instant Pietro's anger had faded and he was pulling his twin into his arms, a low, comforting hum coming from his throat as he held her shaking body close. She hadn't had a reaction like this in weeks. They'd grown common for a short time as she adjusted to her powers, especially when the telepathic aspects became too much to bear, before she'd been able to gain a measure of control over the ability. That she was reacting like this? It told Pietro that, whatever was troubling her had to do with the disjointed fragments of other people's thoughts she'd inadvertently picked up on…about Nina.

"I think they may have been looking for her," she finally murmured into his chest. Pietro frowned, once again growing defensive.

"Who? The Avengers? For Nina? Specifically?" She nodded as her fingers curled unconsciously into his jacket.

"That person Strucker and the woman spoke of, Rykova, who was with the Avengers? I didn't get why, but the woman was sure she was there for Nina…" she trailed off, glancing up to Pietro as he tensed. "No," she blurted, eyes going wide as she realized how he'd taken it, "no, not for a bad reason…I—I think, maybe, this Rykova might have been there to rescue… Oh, I don't know!" She rested her forehead against his shoulder. Unconsciously Pietro ran a hand soothingly up and down her back as his thoughts began to race. "I only got fragments. I don't know what the Avengers wanted with Nina." Though he refused to let it show on his face, Wanda's admission troubled Pietro. The idea that leaving her behind would have been better for her was suddenly gnawing at the back of his mind. But he pushed the thought away. It was too late for that now. Now, the three of them were looking out for each other, and Pietro had no intention of leaving Nina behind. And he knew Wanda felt just as strongly.

Placing a comforting kiss on the crown of her head, Pietro leaned back in order to catch his twin's eye, plastering a confident, reassuring expression on his face.

"As soon as she's doing better, we'll move on. Okay?" Though the breath she inhaled was shaky, there was a stubborn set to Wanda's jaw and a determined glint resurfacing in her eyes as she nodded in agreement.

"Okay."


	28. Chapter 27

**New York City, USA**

**Spring 2015**

Nothing. Nadine had nothing. Three days of searching and digging and 'resting'—as she'd been ordered by Natasha, Steve and even Banner and Dr. Cho once they'd been brought in on the battle of wills—and she was no closer to finding Nina. She was seriously beginning to regret allowing the Avengers to insist that best option for her was to return to New York—and stay in New York—to regroup.

She should have listened to her instincts and stayed in Sokovia, or at least ignored all protests and returned to the small country once she'd gotten over her initial shock, both from her injury and her scare that Nina had been… She had more options, more avenues she could explore if she had boots on the ground. She could question people, see the lay of the land, get a feel for the environment her targets were hiding in… There was only so much she could do sitting in front of a computer in New York, even with J.A.R.V.I.S.'s help; she could only stare at screen for so long. And while it was incredible what she could find when she set to it, there was still only so much computer programs could do.

Strucker's Enhanced Twins were good at staying off the radar. There was no digital trail that she could find beyond a few vague records for past addresses, most for foster families the twins had cut all ties to, or buildings that were either long gone or condemned. They had next to no relationships that could be traced digitally.

Her last and best hope had been scouring surveillance video, security feeds, CCTV networks, the whole bit in an attempt to track them down. Nadine had even delved into one of the programs Stark had 'acquired' from S.H.I.E.L.D. for tapping into any WiFi-connected camera to try and locate Nina or the Maximoff twins through facial recognition. It certainly didn't help that one of the Twins—Pietro—could move faster than many of Sokovia's old cameras could pick up. She'd found a few feeds from the odd store—one a pharmacy—where the cameras picked up distortions that could possibly be a result of his movements. But she couldn't be certain. It definitely didn't help that Novi Grad's system of surveillance cameras was sparse…and of a less than desired quality for what she was after. It was a by-product of the constant uncertainty and upheaval many of the poorer, turbulent Eastern European countries faced.

It was making Nadine wish all the more than she was on the ground rather than stuck in New York.

All the advanced tech in the world was incredible and invaluable…until it wasn't.

But she was growing fairly certain that the Twins hadn't left Novi Grad as Stark and even Rogers had suspected they would three days into their flight from Strucker's base. Perhaps it was only a gut feeling, but from what she'd gleaned from what little J.A.R.V.I.S. had been able to save of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff's files after List had attempted to wipe them, she couldn't help but think they'd stay in their home city. And the surveillance videos with the distortions? Again, her instincts said it was no coincidence.

She was beginning to grope for anything she could use to help her search. She was seriously debating abandoning the Avengers altogether, no matter that a peculiar little feeling in the back of her mind rebelled against the idea. But the urge to do whatever it took to find her daughter overrode almost every other instinct, inherent or taught.

She was beginning to truly understand why the Red Room Graduation Ceremony consisted of the steps that it did.

There was nothing more important to her just now than finding Nina.

Nothing.

Which was why she had finally approached Rogers earlier that day about the only step short of returning to Sokovia that she had yet to explore. She hadn't even opened with a friendly greeting, getting right to the point when she'd found him reading over reports or some other such on the far side of the Tower's communal area.

"I need access to Strucker." Steve had turned to Nadine, faintly startled by her abruptness as he took in the hard set of her features and the heated determination in her eyes. He'd frowned before setting down the tablet, fixing her with a searching look.

"And if you get access? We can't just let you kill him, Ryker, tempting as that may be. He has to face justice for his crimes." Nadine had only scoffed, earning a surprised expression from the Captain.

"I don't want him dead. Not yet." It was then that her tone had changed from impatient to detachedly relating the facts of the situation as she saw it: "I need whatever he knows about Nina. I need to find her, Captain, and he might have the key. Some detail that will help me track the Maximoffs. Some way to contact them, even to track them. I've gone through everything I can here and I can't wait for J.A.R.V.I.S. to finish combing through what's left of the data Stark got from the base." Steve's eyes had narrowed at her cool assessment, but after a moment he'd sighed, standing to look sympathetically at her even as his ocean-hued eyes grew thoughtful.

"I'll see what I can do, Ryker. But I can't promise anything," he'd fixed her with a stern look then, "they're not about to let a Russian ballet mistress from Vienna in to question one of the last remaining heads of HYDRA. Certainly not considering everything that the UN's charging him with. Even if you were to risk going in as The Ghost? They wouldn't let you within a hundred yards of him." Nadine had nearly growled in frustration. She'd realized instantly what he'd been doing. Oddly enough, she didn't doubt that he'd be true to his word and try, but he'd obviously believed there wasn't even a chance that it would happen. She hadn't been able to help the way her entire demeanour had shifted then, unconsciously closing herself off from him, letting her detached, emotionless mask overtake her features.

"Five minutes and I'll have what I need to find Nina. Ten and he'll spill every secret he has; I promise you." His eyebrows had risen with an expression bordering on disbelief, but he'd mastered it quickly, arms crossing over his chest.

"I'd be a fool to say I doubted that," he'd countered carefully, "but there is more at play here than just Nina, Nadine." Rationally, she'd known that. She still knew it. She knew who Strucker was, what sorts of things he'd done; she'd be willing to bet she knew far more than Rogers ever would. He deserved to be exactly where he was and probably deserved more besides for things the UN and the Avengers didn't know about. But when it came to Nina? Nadine wasn't rational. Not entirely.

"I don't want to have to break in to talk to him, Rogers. I don't have the time or the patience right now for that." With a last, level glare, she'd turned from him then, only pausing in her fuming exit to leave him with a final thought.

"But I will if I have to."

Even hours later, she was still irritated that she'd effectively gotten nowhere by turning to Steve. Although, her temper had cooled since then and she was now able to admit to herself that blaming Steve as she'd done earlier that day hadn't been justified or fair. And she was apparently not hiding it well.

"You know, you still get the same look on your face when something hasn't gone your way that you used to get when we were girls, right?" Nadine met Natasha's eyes in the mirror the redhead had the blonde sitting in front of, nearly scowling at the teasing glint in her sister's green eyes. Natasha merely smirked before turning back to her task, her face growing serious as she did so. "What's going on?" She held up a hand in peace as Nadine geared up to make a snippy comment, knowing full well what it was likely to be, "I mean, beside the fact that Nina's still missing. You're hung up on something else." Nadine let a sigh slip through, not feeling the overwhelming need to hide everything she felt from the younger woman. It was a comforting feeling, really.

"I asked Rogers to help get me in to question Strucker," Nadine revealed in a low, bitter tone. Behind her Natasha let out a faintly aggravated sound, fixing the blonde with an incredulous look.

"Let me guess, he said he'd do his best but that it's beyond his level of influence, didn't he. I warned you that it would probably play out like that when you first started talking about the idea," she pointed out baldly. It was true, and Nadine couldn't deny it. Natasha had been there when Nadine had first considered that Strucker might be useful in tracking down the Twins. And the redhead had voiced her doubts then too. But she was also perfectly aware that Nadine was growing more unsettled and desperate the longer she went without any viable leads or significant avenues to explore. It was part of why the redhead had insisted on taking over Nadine's preparation for the party that Stark was throwing.

And just as had been the case when they were girls, Nadine found herself bending to Natasha's indomitable will almost before she'd realized what her little sister was up to. That was why she now found herself seated in Natasha's private quarters in the Tower, dressed in a chic, forest-green cocktail dress with her makeup done and Natasha putting the finishing touches on her hair. Needless to say, Nadine was not at all into the idea of a party. But Natasha had insisted.

And it was very hard to say no to Natasha when she had her mind set on something.

Especially when one has a long-ingrained soft spot for her…

Although, if Nadine was being honest…it was nice, letting Natasha fuss over her dress and her makeup and her hair and asking Nadine for opinions on her own attire for the evening. It felt almost, well, normal. It felt like it had when they were girls and they would sit and talk and laugh and play with each other's hair. It felt like those few precious moments where they had been able to pretend they were normal teenage girls, like they were real sisters. It must have shown on her face, because soon Natasha was grinning at her in the mirror, the expression soft and nostalgic.

"You're thinking of it too, aren't you," she finally said softly as she paused in shaking the bottle of hairspray in her hand. Nadine looked up at her, a small, almost sad smile of her own appearing in response to Natasha's.

"Of those few times when we were allowed to be just girls together, instead of spies-in-training? Yeah, _lisichka_ , I do. I missed it." Nodding, Natasha resumed her work, strategically spritzing Nadine's blonde locks with a thoughtful focus, though she periodically glanced up to meet her sister's gaze.

"So did I," the redhead finally added softly as she replaced the cap on the can, setting it purposefully down on the vanity as she leaned against it next to where Nadine sat, her fingers idly fiddling with the tie on her amber-coloured dressing gown. It took her another moment before she looked away from Nadine, her arms crossing almost unconsciously, as though hugging herself for a measure of reassurance. "I missed you after you left," she admitted softly, her gaze unfocused and bright as she stared straight ahead, "more than I have words to describe. I even hated you for a short time for leaving me alone in that place. But more than anything I missed having someone to talk to. Someone who actually looked out for me."

There was a no-nonsense quality to her tone that immediately had Nadine reaching out a hand to clasp at Natasha's in solidarity, pulling her down to sit next to her on the narrow vanity stool. It was the tone her sister used when she was feeling the most hurt, a tone intended to hide just how much pain she felt that Nadine had always been able to see through. Immediately and instinctively, Natasha was leaning her head on Nadine's shoulder, her arm wrapping around Nadine's stomach even as Nadine wrapped her own around Natasha's, leaning her own head against her little sister's fox-red hair. For a few moments, the two women lapsed into silence, each offering the other silent comfort as they leaned against each other.

"The only thing I regretted about leaving that place was leaving you behind, Natalia," Nadine finally murmured, her voice wavering with emotion and regret which, oddly enough, didn't bother her in the slightest. It felt good to let her emotions show around Natasha. And after a long moment she decided to let one more secret free into her sister's care: "I even thought about taking you with me." It was nearly silent, so Nadine felt more than heard her little sister's shuddering inhale.

"Why didn't you?" It was nearly a little girl's voice that asked, Natasha sounding like her younger self again in a rare moment of vulnerability. Nadine was suddenly blinking back tears, hating the desperate hurt woven through Natasha's voice.

"Because I honestly didn't think I was going to make it once I decide to run," she admitted, perfectly candid right down to the grief in her voice, "I was sure I'd never make it out alive but…but I had to try anyway…" she shifted, placing a faint kiss into her little sister's hair before continuing, using the pause to attempt to recompose herself. "As much as I hated myself for it, I figured your best chance to survive was in that place. Even then, I knew you'd be one of the few to prove unbreakable. But if I'd taken you with me? I'd figured we'd be shot and buried in the woods before we got more than fifty miles out. At least if you made it through the Red Room, you would have at least some chance at a life once you were free of the program.

"And when I realized I was wrong? That I had actually made it out…" Nadine faltered then, unable to continue with what she wanted to say next; one of her most closely guarded secrets and one of her most deeply held regrets.

And that was saying something.

She'd considered going back, considered breaking Natasha out. Only one thing had stopped her…

…the little baby girl that had been her reason for running in the first place.

With a heavy sigh Natasha pulled away, turning to look at Nadine with a sad, thoughtful and—bewilderingly—understanding look on her face.

"But by the time you realized you'd made it, you had someone else who depended on you." Nadine felt her heart break at the sad acceptance in Natasha's voice.

"I wanted to come back for you…" she tried to say, her whispered words cracking and catching in her throat. Even more bewildering than the understanding in her voice was the reserved but surprisingly genuine smile that Natasha gave her as she reached out to brush back a few wayward blonde strands from Nadine's face.

"And then we both might be dead. If you'd taken me with in the first place, we might both be dead," she sighed heavily, eyes flicking around the room as she sorted through her thoughts before looking back to Nadine, "we can never know what might have happened, Nadya. It might have worked out. It might not have. But it can't be changed now. I've learned to leave the past where it belongs. It's the only way to live with some of the things I've seen, things I've done. It's okay, really." Natasha's voice was resigned with the slightest trace of bitterness. But it was still, somehow, accepting, and Nadine could easily read in her sister's uncharacteristically open expression that she meant what she said even if it still smarted all these years later.

That she didn't hold it against her.

The beginnings of a sob caught in Nadine's throat as she nodded in agreement with her little sister, grateful beyond words for the silent and unasked for forgiveness woven through the subtext of the redhead's words. Still fighting back the tears that were stubbornly trying to gather in her eyes, Nadine reached out to tidy one of Natasha's coppery-red curls, a hesitant, relieved smile of her own tugging at her lips.

Then, with a soft, pointed clearing of her throat, Natasha stood, turning back to the vanity Nadine sat at to poke through the jewellery box waiting off to the side. "Earrings or necklace." Unable to help but smile for real at the return to what could almost pass for normalcy, Nadine simply sat back as she recomposed herself, allowing Natasha to consider the merits of one piece of jewellery over another before finally deciding on a multi-strand gold necklace. But as she was fastening the piece around Nadine's neck and arranging the strands across the high neckline of the green dress, her hand's assured movement faltered for a split-second as Natasha once again glanced at Nadine in the mirror. And the hesitation in her eyes indicated that the look wasn't just to check her handiwork. But this time, Nadine didn't even have to prompt Natasha to come out and say what she was thinking.

"You know, I saw him again." Nadine looked up at Natasha's deceptively conversational tone. That alone had her eying the redhead warily. At the look the blonde gave her, Natasha didn't hesitate to clarify and continue, "the Winter Soldier. I saw him again, after I started working for S.H.I.E.L.D.; he…well, he was sent after a scientist I was assigned to protect." Nadine frowned, though there was no hiding the way her expression immediately grew guarded.

"What happened?" It was only then that Natasha hesitated. Nadine picked up on it at once, letting out a frustrated noise, "you don't have to walk on eggshells about him around me _lisichka_. It was a long time ago," she said sharply. Natasha only raised a suspicious eyebrow at her adoptive sister.

"He succeeded in his mission; I didn't," she answered briskly before switching tracks to respond to Nadine's assertion. "Can you really blame me? I hadn't seen you in how long? I haven't had time to figure out yet how…sensitive the topic is to you. And it obviously still is. There's something there, but I can't quite put my finger on what." Another frustrated sound escaped Nadine.

"Nothing. There's nothing, at least, nothing of what you're alluding to. Yes, there's a—connection. We have a history. That much is obvious. But I don't love him if that's what you're getting at—and that's not a denial, before you go reading in any such things. It's a statement of fact." She paused, organizing how she needed to explain, knowing full well she was going to have to, considering the stubborn look in her sister's eyes.

"I'm—I'm grateful to him. I feel horrible and guilty for the way I—I used him…I feel like I owe him…" Her voice had gone from exasperated to coolly matter-of-fact to trailing off as the guilt she so detachedly named leached into her voice. She glanced up to Natasha, meeting her little sister's worried gaze.

"I owe him my life, _lisichka_ …almost as much as I owe him for Nina's. He let me go, the night I ran. He caught me…and he let me go." There was no hiding the shock and disbelief that spread across Natasha's features, her lips parting and green eyes wide and oddly bright. It took a great deal of effort for Nadine to keep her voice from wavering at the emotion written so clearly on her little sister's face. "He should have killed me, but he didn't." Natasha didn't say a word as Nadine fell silent, the blonde's gaze falling to where her hands were wringing together in her lap.

"So you do care for him?" Nadine sighed at the redhead's murmured question. Though, there was very little in the way of questioning to her tone.

"Of course I do," she answered tiredly, looking up at Natasha, "I'm not heartless, _lisichka_ , no matter how hard I try to be. But I'm not in love with him." Natasha nodded slowly, her green eyes firm but accepting as they met Nadine's. She believed her. With a small, grateful smile, Nadine stood, taking a last look at herself in the mirror of the vanity before turning to Natasha with a wide smile replacing the grateful one.

"Well, you've made sure I look great, but I think it's time you finished getting dressed, _lisichka_. It's a nice look, but not really Party-appropriate." Natasha snickered, looking down to her dressing gown.

"It would draw some attention," she joked as Nadine retrieved the black and cream dress she and Natasha had picked out earlier, "but I'm not in the mood for _that_ much attention, tonight." Nadine couldn't help but raise a speculative eyebrow at the comment. Natasha smirked secretively as she shed the dressing gown, reaching for her dress as Nadine held it out to her. The blonde let out a playful huff when the redhead didn't elaborate.

"Fine. Keep your secrets," she declared as Natasha turned to allow her sister to help straighten the pleats and folds on the dress that had been displaced as the fastenings had been done up. Natasha's smirk grew pleased.

But as Nadine stepped back to run a discerning eye over her sister's appearance, looking for any last minute adjustments needing to be made, Natasha's smirk faltered. Again, Nadine sensed there was something the redhead was debating to ask, especially when her gaze grew distant as she ran a gentle hand over her hair, making sure she hadn't mussed it. It wasn't until Nadine turned a moment later to retrieve the earrings Natasha had picked out that she finally spoke.

"Nadine," Natasha hesitated, though she looked to Nadine entreatingly as the blonde turned back to her, "Nadya, about Nina and her…why Strucker wanted _her_. I think you should tell—" but she didn't get to finish.

"Who?" Nadine's voice had turned instinctively defensive, though she quickly adjusted to an almost apologetic tone laced with bitterness and guilt. "Who else needs to know? No one. It's not important to anyone but me. It's because of what happened between him and me that my daughter was targeted, Natalia. It's why I've been running, hiding for eighteen years. There are still people after me, _lisichka_. And _that_ getting out would only add fuel to the fire." She shook her head, her grey eyes determined and insistent as they met Natasha's. The redhead sighed, visibly unhappy with what she was hearing. But she didn't interrupt as Nadine glanced down to the silver and gold earrings in her hand, forcing herself to get her small flare of panicked temper back under control before stepping forward, handing Natasha the jewellery.

"No. It's nobody's business but my own." Her lips pursing slightly as she looked down to the proffered earrings, Natasha took them. The younger woman could easily tell it was an argument she wouldn't win.

"Okay," she capitulated softly before looking up to Nadine with an expression full of warning, "it's your decision, Nadya, your secret. But I think you're making a mistake."

"If I am? It's my mistake to make."


	29. Chapter 28

**New York City, USA**

**Spring 2015**

It really was a great party from what Nadine could judge. The Tower was filled with music and the sounds of dozens people laughing and chatting and having an all-around good time. Everywhere she looked, Nadine could spot the Avengers, each visibly enjoying themselves, smiles on their faces, body language loose and relaxed. It was a chance to unwind, and they were taking full advantage of it with their friends.

Naturally, Nadine took in all of it, senses alert and mind as observant and assessing as always. From where she stood on one of the mid-level decks of the Tower's common area, she could easily see Natasha helping herself behind the bar as Bruce approached, looking somewhat uncomfortable and almost a little lost. Thor was regaling a group of older men—veterans judging by their caps—with one of his adventures. Hawkeye was chatting with Dr. Cho while Tony wandered in his role of consummate host, flitting around the Tower with a broad grin and snappy quips aplenty, though she couldn't help but note he was looking distracted and faintly concerned. Steve she noticed chatting with a friend of his—Sam, if Nadine remembered correctly—before they parted with what looked like farewell, leaving Steve to make his way back down from the far side of the level she was on to the level where the couches and the main bar—where Natasha and Bruce were still talking somewhat intently—were located.

And as the Avengers mingled and enjoyed themselves, she stood at the railing, mercifully alone.

Nadine fought back the urge to fluff or fiddle with her hair…again. She wasn't used to the loose curls. Wasn't used to anything but neat buns or functional ponytails, really.

More than that, it felt inappropriate. Her stomach ached at the thought; Nina was still out there, somewhere. Nadine should be out looking for her. Not attending an Avenger's celebration party. _They_ might have reason to celebrate—Strucker's Alien Sceptre had been retrieved after a long search, Strucker was locked up, HYDRA had been dealt a crushing blow; they were good reasons—but Nadine didn't.

Nadine's mission had failed. She had no reason to celebrate.

She didn't deserve to celebrate.

She flicked back a stray curl, feeling unaccountably frustrated at the pale lock for brushing against her cheekbone. No, that was wrong. She wasn't unaccountably frustrated. She knew exactly what was bothering her. She was taking out her helpless frustration on the poor curl. It felt silly to be all made up, her hair neatly done and wearing the sleek forest-green dress Natasha had picked out for her. It felt silly to be attending a party when she had no reason to celebrate and very much wasn't in the mood for enjoying.

But Natasha had insisted, a peculiar, even eager look on her face as she had fussed over Nadine's appearance for the party. Truthfully, Nadine wasn't sure she'd ever been to a party quite like this. Not one where she wasn't working in some capacity; a couple Galas to support a former student or two; some business-oriented events for the Studio; one less-than-memorable event when she'd been after a mark. But none that were purely intended for, well, fun.

Holding back a sigh, she straightened from where she'd been leaning her forearms on the railing, looking past the cheerful party-goers out to the city-scape beyond. It was beautiful, but she couldn't shake the feeling of anxious helplessness as she looked out at the myriad colourful lights speckling the New York vista.

She should be _doing_ something. Something _useful_!

Something that would help her find her little girl.

"You don't want to be here at all, do you?" Nadine turned to see Steve holding out a dark bottle to her, a surprising look of understanding on his face. She smiled wanly as she reached out to accept the drink.

"Not really," she admitted sedately. "It feels—it feels frivolous; ill-timed." A faint smile quirked the Captain's lips even as Nadine hastily added: "for me, at least." She gestured around the room, indicating him and the other Avengers, "for all of you, it's perfectly warranted. It's well deserved. But for me—"

"The job's not done, so it's not the time for celebrating," he finished for her. She looked up at him with thinly veiled surprise. She hadn't quite expected him to understand, but really, she realized she should have. He was a soldier and a leader through and through. He wouldn't be one to celebrate before the job was done. His gaze grew serious, though the compassion lingered.

"We are going to help you get her back, Nadine. You can trust me on that. Me, Nat, Barton, even Stark; you know he's been running his own searches, right? Trying some different angles with J.A.R.V.I.S.? We don't intend to forget about Nina. For your help with Strucker, we owe you that much. Once J.A.R.V.I.S. has done his thing and Thor's taken the Sceptre back to Asgard, we'll do everything in our power to get her back." Nadine could only manage to nod in gratitude, her throat abruptly too tight to manage words even as her eyes began to prickle. She hadn't realized just how afraid she'd been at the idea of continuing on alone. That the very people she'd gone to for help wouldn't be interested in helping anymore.

She hadn't realized how quickly she'd grown used to the idea of not _being_ alone.

"Thank you, Steve," she finally managed to say, looking up at the Captain. He smiled lightly, his ocean-hued eyes sincere. Nadine couldn't help but smile back, feeling unaccountably reassured by the expression in those eyes. Nodding, he laid a hand briefly in her shoulder.

"You're welcome." Her shoulder felt oddly cool as he withdrew his hand, as though the touch had warmed her far more than it should have. With a final grin, he stepped back, obviously intending to return to the slowly winding down party. But before he took his leave, he paused, turning back to her for a moment.

"You know, you don't have to stay if you don't want to. We all know how concerned you are about your daughter. None of us would blame you if you ducked away to keep working." Another mild wave of surprise went through Nadine at the comment, her pulse unaccountably picking up at the concern he was showing. Was she really so unused to another person caring? She sent him a grateful smile. She glanced across the way to where Natasha was chatting with Steve's friend, the dark-skinned man passing along what appeared to be a friendly goodbye to the redhead. Nadine sighed lightly as she turned back to the Captain.

"Thanks. I really do appreciate the thought. Natasha won't let me disappear, though. She's got herself convinced I need the break; she's already dragged me back out twice," she admitted with a trace of petulance; she was a grown woman, for heaven's sake, so she should be able to decide for herself if she wanted to stay at a party or not. A look of amused understanding settled on Steve's handsome features—she nearly shook her head at the observation…of all the times to think such things—as he glanced over toward the redheaded assassin himself.

"Well, I can't say that surprises me," he said with a tone of fond exasperation, turning back to Nadine with a grin, "she's certainly not afraid to do what she thinks is best for those she cares about." Nadine hummed in agreement.

"No she's not. She's been that way for as long as I've know her." Steve chuckled before growing thoughtful.

"You could always grab one of the tablets and keep working out here. The party's breaking up, but I suspect we're going to be hanging around for a bit still. You can keep tabs on your searches while still keeping Nat happy." Nadine let out a small burst of laughter, raising an amused eyebrow at the Captain.

"I doubt she'll let me get away with even that, but it's worth a try."

In that, Nadine was certainly proven right. Not long after the last of the guests filed out, the Avengers and their remaining couple of colleagues were gathered on the cream-coloured couches in the heart of the Tower's common area. Nadine had slipped away to retrieve a tablet to keep working, even settling herself near the celebrating team in an attempt to keep Natasha from complaining that she wasn't letting her mind reset.

Within moments of noticing Nadine's attention wasn't wholly on the conversations, the redhead had confiscated the tablet and dragged her blonde sister into the group, virtually shoving her into the last empty spot on the couch next to Steve before retaking her own seat between a dozing Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner. Across the way, Hawkeye was stifling an amused grin even as he shot her a sympathetic look while Tony let out a veritable snicker only to be elbowed by Colonel Rhodes. It was a snicker that died quickly when the billionaire caught a glimpse of the cool glare Nadine sent him. That led to a round of chuckles all its own, even bringing a grin to Nadine's lips despite her mind being elsewhere.

As the conversations resumed, drinks being passed around and laughter periodically breaking out, Nadine was surprised at a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. An amused smirk curled her lips as, with a set of conspiratorial grins, Thor was slipping Nadine's tablet from where Natasha had stashed it and passing it discreetly to Steve. With a nod and a similar look of understanding to the one he'd given her earlier in the evening, Steve was then slyly passing the tablet on to Nadine as he simultaneously held out Thor's flask to her, both of which Nadine gratefully accepted.

Raising the tiny silver flask in thanks to the two men, Nadine took the barest sip before handing it back, shivering a little at the cool smoothness of the liquor as it scorched its way into her belly. The Asgardian might have ceded that Nadine's Enhanced physiology could likely handle the spirit, but she wasn't about to take any chances; she knew she had a much higher tolerance for alcohol than average humans thanks to the Treatments, but she also knew she was certainly far below the league Steve and Thor were in.

It was a gesture Natasha watched with satisfaction before returning her attention back to her conversation with Banner. With matching glances of triumph, Nadine nodded her thanks again to the Captain and the Asgardian before shifting a little further down the couch to resume her work while the others enjoyed themselves.

But despite the fact that she was working, Nadine was soon finding that she was enjoying herself as well. Really, as far as her work to track down Nina and the Maximoffs was going, she could do little more than monitor and periodically adjust her parameters. It left her mind to wander to the carefree socializing going on around her, and it was hard not to get at least a little caught up in the atmosphere.

Watching the team, seeing how comfortable and familiar they were with each other? Even with the interlopers—Dr. Cho, Stark's two guests, Nadine and even Maria Hill, on some level—there was an easy camaraderie between the Avengers that, to Nadine, at least, felt almost…familial. It was cheering in a way Nadine hadn't expected. Besides, it was fascinating to watch the dynamics of the group.

Especially when Barton got the ball rolling for the rest of the Avengers to try lifting Thor's Hammer. There was no denying that the attempts were outrageously entertaining…nor could she deny the visual appeal…

…there was just something about watching Rogers putting all those magnificent muscles to use, even if the attempt was unsuccessful…

Neither could she help her chuckle as the Captain shot her a questioning look as he retook his seat next to her after Natasha had demurred an opportunity to try her hand at lifting the Hammer.

"Oh I don't know," the blonde assassin quipped wryly, understanding his silent inquiry, "you all might not like what I do with it." Not that she believed for a second that she'd be able to lift it. A round of answering chuckles followed her response and subsequent wave off.

"In all deference to the man who wouldn't be king," Stark broke in, earning a fond eye-roll from everyone in spirit if not in actuality, "but it's rigged."

"You bet your ass," Barton agreed emphatically as he slapped Stark's arm lightly in commiseration while Colonel Rhodes stoically nodded his own agreement.

Hill—a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Nadine's memory supplied—not missing a beat, piped up, pointing to Barton with an almost comically serious expression as she looked to Rogers: "Steve, he said a bad language word." Nadine had to stifle a laugh as the Captain groaned, slowly shaking his head before shooting Stark an accusatory glance.

"Did you tell everyone about that?"

"I did warn you," Nadine couldn't help but offer with a teasing grin before taking a smug sip from the amber bottle in her hand, earning herself an exasperated look from the Captain. She pointedly ignored the warmth fluttering in her chest at the faint sparkle of amusement in his eyes as he glanced to her.

She was not attracted or infatuated with the Captain, she forcibly reminded herself.

…Okay, maybe a little attracted…but really, it was hard not to be. The man was not at all hard to look at and she was neither blind nor dead. Despite her best efforts, she wasn't immune to a virtually perfect physique or a handsome face or a charming smile or that honest, ocean-blue gaze—she nearly shook her head in effort to dispel the unwelcome thoughts. They were nothing more than a distraction. Besides, there was far more to Rogers than just his appearance, she scolded herself; he was kind, compassionate, intelligent without being showy about it, unfailingly loyal to his team and his friends, confident, morally assured—Nadine forced her attention back to Stark and his Hammer theories.

She really needed to stop…

…and the best way to do that was to get her mind back on the task of finding her daughter. So with more effort than she was willing to admit, she forced her mind to switch tracks back to her searches. Only for a frown to come to her face as she glanced down to the tablet where it sat unobtrusively next to her thigh.

"Yes…well that's uh, that's a very, very interesting theory," Thor was saying as Nadine picked up the tablet with the hand not holding her drink, an inexplicable feeling of unease seeping into her belly at the error message flickering on the off-coloured screen. "I have a simpler one: you're all not worthy." Nadine glanced up even as Thor was lifting Mjolnir with a showy little toss, her mouth opening to interject as the rest of the group groaned and booed their disagreement with the Asgardian's declaration.

It was then that an ear-piercing electronic screech rang through the tower. Nadine flinched in pain along with everyone else, dropping the tablet with a clatter as her hand instinctively rose to protect her ears.

As the sound faded and everyone straightened, Steve was leaning forward next to her as he caught sight of the tablet's bizarre flickering, shooting a brief glance to Nadine as he reached to retrieve it.

But just before his fingers closed around the device, just as he too was opening his mouth to say something, another voice cut him off.

"Worthy…" As one, everyone was glancing up to the source of the unsettling voice. There was something…odd about it that had Nadine's skin prickling with something that felt like warning. Almost immediately she felt the cool detachment that overcame her upon detecting a threat settle over her as alarm bells began ringing through her head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Natasha reacting in a similar way, her frame loosening in readiness.

"No…how could you be worthy… You're all killers."

It was one of the Iron Legion 'Suits' Stark had rigged up to support the Avengers on missions; Nadine had briefly seen them in action in Sokovia as they'd descended to the city to help minimize collateral casualties. But this one was all wrong. The face and other polymer coverings seemed melted, disintegrating even, as the deformed, piecemeal robot hobbled out into view on knock-kneed, skeletal legs, dripping hydraulic fluid as it went. Her stomach turned as the steady ooze reminded her viscerally of dripping blood.

Beside her Steve stood, calling Stark's name softly, the question clear from his tone alone. Unable to help herself, Nadine's fingers began inching toward her thigh holster, abandoning her drink on the table along with her almost relaxed mood.

"I'm sorry. I was asleep…or was I was a dream," the robot rambled as Stark muttered to himself, the billionaire focusing on his hand-held device in an attempt to puzzle out what was going on. Nadine found herself growing more uneasy with each passing moment, the robot's disjointed, almost drunken movements horribly unsettling. "There was a terrible noise…and I was tangled in…in…strings. I had to kill the other guy." It was as though a sudden chill swept the room. "He was a good guy." Nadine felt her face go blank as her body angled away from the threat, instinctively minimising her body's target area. She barely even registered that she'd stood, or that her compact handgun was suddenly in her hand and casually shielded from the robot's sight in the soft folds of her skirt, the safety already flicked off.

"You killed someone?" Steve asked calmly. Nadine didn't take her eyes from the corrupted Legionnaire, but she didn't need to look to Steve to know he was in Captain America-mode. It was in his voice, his focused frown made audible.

"Wouldn't have been my first call," the robot admitted almost nonchalantly. It sent an uncomfortable tremor through most of the group, Nadine included. "But, down in the real world we're faced with ugly choices."

"Who sent you?" Just as there was no mistaking the Captain in Steve's voice, there was no mistaking the casual command in Thor's tone: a hallmark of his noble upbringing if there ever was one.

The voice they heard next was not the one they expected to hear from the robot. The shock and confusion that rippled through the group was nearly tangible as Stark's voice was played back at them.

"Ultron." The mixture of disbelief and recognition in Dr. Banner's voice did not reassure Nadine in the slightest.

"In the flesh." Against her better judgement, as the robot—Ultron, apparently—began rambling again, Nadine was glancing between Banner and Stark, her unease beginning to deepen to anger at the understanding and troubled looks the pair of scientists were exchanging. Immediately in front of her, Nadine caught a glimpse of Hill similarly taking the safety off the slim gun that had appeared in the former agent's hands as she too slowly stood, while off to the side her peripheral vision noted Thor's grip shifting on his Hammer. Her attention snapped back to where it belonged as Ultron's declaration of being on a mission hung in the air.

"What mission?" Natasha asked cautiously, voicing the question on all their minds. The robot's head tilted, his already discomfiting faceplate taking on a decidedly sinister cast.

"Peace in our time."

And the wall behind him exploded as the remaining Legionnaires burst into the room.

Immediately everyone sprang into action. As the lead Legionnaire barrelled toward them, almost everyone was darting in different directions—save Hill who, in lieu of anywhere else to go, dropped to the floor—and Nadine was vaulting over the back of the couch even as Steve deftly kicked the table at his feet up in a makeshift shield just in time for the robot to crash into it.

The impact sent the Captain flying, the table careening after him, catching Nadine as well before she could dive out of the way. She'd barely hit the ground before shots echoed out through the tower—Hill, if her ringing head could be trusted—the lack of metallic impacts dimly registering as Nadine hastily rolled to her feet, stifling a pained groan. As she spun around, a Legionnaire was being flung deeper into the Tower from an apparent introduction to Thor's Hammer, while her peripheral vision caught Stark and Rhodes hurtling over the railing toward Ultron on the level below.

She needed to move. Without thinking, she was bolting for the table-like counter tucked under the walkway from the level above, just barely making it under as an energy pulse from one of the Legionnaires seared over her head.

As Nadine paused for a moment to catch the breath she'd lost as the coffee table slammed into her, she took quick stock of her surroundings—wincing involuntarily as Natasha and Banner dove over the bar across the way, the doctor proving less than graceful as they took cover behind it—quickly realizing Barton was crouched up against the wall only a few feet from her. The archer was watching the scene out in the rest of the tower intently, murmuring quiet reassurance to the woman beside him whose name Nadine couldn't care to remember in that moment. He caught her eye as she did, a flicker of concern asking just as effectively as words if Nadine was alright. With a brisk nod she glanced back out just in time to catch sight of Natasha popping out from behind the other bar to open fire on the closest robot. Angling herself back out under the counter for a moment, Nadine managed to get off two shots of her own, both easily hitting their mark…not that it seemed to do much good.

Bullets just seemed to bounce off these guys.

But then, Stark had designed them to be resistant to bullet damage…

"This is not the kind of excitement I was looking for in a party," she threw out as she ducked back behind the cover of the counter just in time to avoid being hit by a stray energy pulse. Barton barked out a laugh while the woman—Brittany? Briana? Bri-something—shot them both an incredulous, wide-eyed look.

Only to shriek as a Legionnaire slammed into the wall high over their heads in an attempt to dislodge Steve where he clung to its back, sending an avalanche of shattered tiles down on the trio taking cover below.

An attempt that worked as the Captain lost his grip, allowing the 'bot to toss him down onto the counter's granite surface. He impacted heavily with a dull, pained grunt before crashing to the floor. A flash of fear went through Nadine when the supersoldier didn't immediately move, only for her breath to whoosh out in a gust as he shifted with a groan.

"I'm with you, Ryker," Barton agreed quickly before throwing himself out from under the counter's cover to grab at Steve, half-urging and half-hauling the dazed Captain under cover. Without even thinking, Nadine was again peering over the counter, ready to provide cover as the two Avengers scrambled back behind the counter if they came under fire again.

Out of the corner of her eye, the blonde assassin caught sight of Nat and Banner making a break for the stairs to the upper level. Evidently the Legionnaire she'd been watching saw it too, causing it to spin and begin firing at the pair, the redhead getting off a few shots of her own while just barely managing to pull Banner along quickly enough to keep them ahead of the Legionnaire's pulses. Nadine was up in an instant to add some coverfire of her own, effectively splitting the Legionnaire's attention long enough for Banner and Natasha to reach cover at the top of the stairs. She only just managed to duck back behind the counter herself as a white-hot pulse from the other Legionnaire blurred past her to shatter the bottles above them.

As she scurried back against the cabinets behind her, the Captain shifted so that he was similarly positioned on her right, glancing around her down to Barton as the archer similarly straightened.

"We need to move," Nadine called to the other three over the chaos, barely audible over the crashes and sounds of shattering glass and energy pulses blasting through the tower. The pulses just kept coming, impacting on the surface of the counter and on the shelves and cabinets behind them. Nadine's instinct was to fire back, but she knew she didn't have the bullets for it; she needed to be strategic.

"Down there!" The archer jerked his head back down toward the lower level, near where Stark and Rhodes had disappeared to as the fighting started. With a glance to Steve, Nadine nodded her quick agreement before turning back to track the Legionnaire currently dividing its attention between the four of them and Nat up on the level above. As a result, the Legionnaire couldn't get a proper angle on them at the moment, small mercy as it was. But that would only last until either it moved, or they did.

With a final glance to the two Avengers as Nadine raised her sidearm in ready again, Barton was pulling himself and the other woman into a crouch, quickly informing her on what was about to happen. With a final nod from Steve they all sprung into action.

As soon as Nadine was reaching over the counter again to open fire, her peripheral vision saw Barton urging Stark's girl forward. Mercifully the brunette didn't hesitate. If she had, she'd have run right into an oncoming pulse. As it was, the searing bolt nearly hit Barton, causing the archer to backpedal sharply, just barely making it back behind the counter as more raced toward him.

A flash of concern jolted through Nadine, her eyes trying to flick over to see if Barton was alright. It was enough of a distraction that she nearly wasn't able to dive out of the way as an incoming pulse sent one of the barstools crashing over where her head had been an instant before. As it was, the stool fragments shattered another portion of shelving, sending glass and splinters of wood framing crashing down toward her.

"Ryker!" she heard Barton shout, catching sight of him hesitating, thinking to dart back toward her as she lifted her head. Glass shards fell in a musical rain from her hair and clothes as she insistently waved him off.

"Go!" she snapped out even as Steve let out a shout of his own.

"My shield," he called even as Barton was coiling in preparation for his own mad dash. The archer spared the Captain a final nodding glance in immediate understanding.

Then, like one of his arrows, Barton was springing forward, running for the stairs Stark's girl has disappeared down mere seconds before.

He just barely made it too, the glass wall panels guarding the stairs shattering under the Legionnaire's assault almost the instant he cleared each one.

At the same time as Barton made his dash, Steve was breaking cover himself, racing to the other side of the tower. Though part of her was concerned about why, Nadine was already engaging the last Legionnaire in tandem with Natasha across the way, keeping it busy with her last couple rounds even as Barton re-emerged from the level below and Steve raced around the couches.

A shout—Barton's, Nadine recognized distantly—was the only warning before Steve was catching and sending his shield crashing into the final Legionnaire, smashing it to pieces.

"Well that was dramatic," Ultron declared dryly as the tower fell silent, all eyes turning back to him. "I'm sorry, I know you mean well." Nadine couldn't help but exchange an incredulous look with Barton as she edged around the remnants of the counter to stand next to him while Ultron spoke; the robot was monologuing… _actually_ monologuing.

He only stopped when Thor's Hammer crashed into his mutilated body, the haphazard construction fragmenting and scattering across the floor.

As a pool of fluids seeped slowly from the remnants of his body, a soft, droning tune sounded briefly before fading. Then Ultron's glowing eyes went dark.

Leaving the Tower as silent as a tomb.


	30. Chapter 29

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

It might be spring, but there was still a definite winter-like chill in the air.

But Pietro didn't feel the cold. Not really. He was used to it. Besides, his Enhancement helped keep him toasty, both with the slightly higher than normal body temperature and the fact that it was relatively easy to warm up when you could move faster than the eye could perceive.

Another bonus was evident in the bags he had set down on the ledge behind him and the items he was producing out of said bags for the small group gathering around him.

He'd used to do the same thing before the Experiments. Then, though, he'd had to be a lot more careful. He hadn't had superspeed on his side then, only his wits. He'd made do of course, and had actually gotten quite good, but there had still been several close calls.

Now? He hadn't gotten within miles of a close call. It was great.

It was also much less fun.

It had been thrilling at first, breaking in wherever he wanted with no one the wiser. But that thrill had faded fast.

More than that, as much as he enjoyed getting away with the sorts of things his new abilities let him do, Pietro was more than a little unsatisfied just handing out things that he'd picked up for a handful of their neighbours in a quiet corner of the market square. Sure, these people needed the items he'd picked up on his 'errands'—things he'd overheard them saying they'd needed, like the older gentleman he'd heard talking to his daughter about how his insurance wasn't going to cover his heart medication this month or things they'd told him they needed in passing when he spoke to them last—and Pietro couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that came from handing out new shoes and coats and food to the small group.

What was unsatisfying about it was that it was all he was currently using his new powers for. He was back to doing, well, what he'd been doing before he and Wanda had met Strucker.

And it felt like a waste.

He wanted to really _do_ something with his abilities, to make a real difference…and to take the justice he and Wanda had craved from the moment the first shell had hit their building when they were children. It felt like a waste to just be running around fixing little problems. Not that the little problems weren't important too. It still irked him that their prime opportunity had been allowed to pass by. He was still upset with Wanda about that. She claimed she had good reason, but he still wasn't convinced.

Withholding an impatient sigh and pasting a smile back on his face, he turned back to the bag he was pulling the goods he'd collected from. As he did, he happened to catch a glimpse of Nina where she sat nearby. Once she'd realized what it was he was doing in the market square not far from the building they'd stayed in the night before, the slight blonde had offered to help, her eyes taking on a slight sparkle as she kept him company and helped him sort through the bags as the people he'd collected for appeared.

But it had quickly become obvious that she was in no condition to be on her feet, and it had finally taken Wanda and Pietro both to convince her she needed to rest.

She still looked bad. Even with the shawl and thick blanket Wanda had wrapped around her when she'd come out with them, Nina looked positively chilled in the cool evening air, and her shadowed eyes and fevered cheeks only seemed to be getting worse.

Neither of them had any idea how much longer it was going to go on for either, how long it would be before she began to genuinely improve…he refused to believe it would be anything but _when_. But that stage for him and Wanda had been a blur of fevers and aches and dullness when they'd gone through it, and neither of them had felt any desire to learn how much time they'd lost as a result. So they hadn't had a real answer for themselves or Nina when she'd asked. She just…well, nothing was changing. She wasn't getting markedly worse, but she wasn't getting better, either.

It was beginning to scare Pietro, and he knew from Wanda's anxious glances toward the blonde that his twin was just as worried. There was a growing blank, even vacant cast to Nina's expression that made it even worse. It was starting to look like she was shutting down.

But even as he looked at her, the expression cleared and she met his eye with an exhausted but reassuring little grin. It didn't reassure him much, but it did help. Unable to stop the grin that came to his face in response, Pietro had to force himself back on task, finally locating the medication that he'd tracked down for the old man he'd encountered in the market the day before. For a little while there, Pietro had been afraid he wouldn't show up, that his daughter hadn't passed along the message he'd left with her.

"Those the right ones?" The old man peered carefully at the orange bottle before looking back up at Pietro with a wary sort of speculation on his face.

"Yeah."

"The doctor who refilled it. No more insurance hassle. I made a house call," the speedster explained sincerely…he wasn't lying…exactly. The old man's eyes widened with surprise, though there was a flicker there that made Pietro think he suspected the truth.

"How much?"

"Oh, no," he waved off with a faint grin as he turned back to the bags. He wasn't about to take anything, not when some of these people barely had anything. Digging through the bag again, he caught sight of the gift he'd picked up for the boy who'd been hanging around him the day before, watching with interest as Pietro had handed out his gifts then. With a deft flick of his wrist, he was lightly tossing the mini soccer ball from one hand to the other before turning and handing it to the boy's sister.

"This is for your brother." The girl smiled up at him, her eyes dancing with interest. Pietro looked at her for a moment with the faintest sense of bewilderment. In the past, he would've been flirting playfully with a girl as pretty as this one. Looking back to the day before, he had been…just a little…and not entirely intentionally. Today? She was interested, he realized with surprise—she hadn't seemed that interested the day before…not that he'd been seriously looking to see if she was. She'd just been fun to tease.

"Thank you," she said in an almost coy way. He grinned again—though perhaps not so freely as before—before turning back to the bag. But when he found what he'd grabbed for her, he just couldn't help himself. Turning back with a grin, he held out the jacket

"And this is not for your brother." Her dark eyes went wide…he couldn't help but think he preferred lighter eyes…

"Oh, no, this is too—" Once, her blushing, flustered reaction would've left Pietro struggling not to smirk with amusement. But today, it was all he could do to manage even an awkward grin as he cut her off. He hadn't needed to get her anything, and now he was realizing it was probably not the wisest of moves. Now she was going to think he'd been serious in his interest…

"Don't worry about it," he brushed off with a shrug, turning back to the bag. He could swear he felt the girl's eyes on his back. Out of habit, he glanced up the way he had been all evening, his eyes automatically seeking out the girl he'd been keeping an eye on.

Not because he liked her, though…of course not…

But Pietro couldn't help the pleased grin creeping over his face or the warmth that began creeping up the back of his neck when he caught sight of Nina watching the exchange with a glimmer of amusement in her tired eyes. The boy's sister and her appreciative grin—for more than her gifted jacket, the vain side of him noted—definitely hadn't warmed him the same way Nina's little smile had. Forcing back a grin that he knew would be too goofy for what he was doing, Pietro again made himself look back down to the bag. It was then that he'd found what he'd been keeping an eye out for.

A pleased smirk replacing the repressed grin, he pulled the jacket from the bag. It was a pale, soft blue—not a bright, baby blue—hooded wool coat with round black buttons. It was something he'd grabbed on purpose, knowing exactly who he needed to get it for the instant he'd caught sight of it.

Jacket in hand, he ducked around the low wall he'd set up shop on to jog around to where Nina was huddled not far away, on a small set of sheltered steps near the middle of the stretch of low-walled greenspace that inhabited the far edge of the market square. Her eyes were beginning to droop shut as another shudder ran through her. It was enough that Pietro's self-satisfied smirk faded slightly, her obvious discomfort rather sobering.

But as he settled next to her, tugging off the blanket to drape the jacket he'd picked out for her across her shoulders, a far more genuine smile stole over his face, especially when she looked up to him with surprise even as he carefully re-tucked the blanket securely around her.

With a wide grin, Pietro reluctantly picked himself up from Nina's side, all but sauntering back to where he'd left his emptying bag of gifts.

"Is every girl in Sokovia getting a new jacket? At least Nina's looked warm." Pietro frowned as he turned to Wanda where she had walked up beside him, eying the jacket the blonde girl was still holding as she lingered near Pietro with a measure of condescension—he was hoping she was waiting for her brother…not for a chance to talk to him. He glanced to the girl, a sheepish, apologetic look coming to his face only for annoyance to join it as Wanda rolled her eyes at him before continuing on toward Nina.

"Uh…" was all he could manage as the girl's face looked at him with a silent questioning expression, her eyes growing faintly accusatory. Not at all interested in dealing with that, Pietro was quickly loping after his sister; the bags were pretty much empty anyway. "You're jealous I didn't get you a jacket," he quipped lightly as he caught up to her, grinning impishly as he did. "Did you want one too? I promise, I'll get you a nice red one." She merely rolled her eyes again, a glint in them that immediately had him sobering slightly. She wasn't just annoyed; she was upset.

"You keep stealing, you're going to get shot." Pietro scoffed at her disparaging tone. He couldn't help it. Once that might have been a real risk, but after Strucker's Experiments? Well, he was pretty sure he could outrun a bullet now. She glared at him, fear and worry flickering in her eyes. "I mean it," she snapped, her anger sparking his own, "at speed nothing can touch you. But standing still…" Everything that had been bothering him over the last several days, their lack of direction not least among them, boiled over at her scolding.

"Do you think I want to be?" he interrupted impatiently, "You said, 'Wait!' I'm waiting. I don't know for what. We had Stark helpless. All these years, and you…" He abruptly cut himself off, still fuming but easily recognizing the look on his sister's face that warned him he was about to push too far. Arms crossing defensively across his chest, he pointedly looked anywhere but at his sister, his gaze automatically searching out Nina again. It seemed she was glancing around for them too, the blonde's tense frame relaxing slightly when she caught sight of the Twins. Pietro couldn't help the faint answering grin that came to his face at the small, relieved look that appeared on her face.

He couldn't even bring himself to mind the exasperated expression that had taken over Wanda's features.

"You're trying awfully hard to impress her," Wanda finally said under her breath as she eyed him disapprovingly. Pietro looked over to her, plastering as innocent a look as he could manage on his face; not that she was likely to buy it anyway.

"I have no idea what you mean," he grinned at her. Wanda made a small, unconvinced noise in response.

"I almost believed you," she quipped sarcastically back, "I think saving her from Strucker and the Avengers was impressive enough, don't you?" Pietro couldn't quite manage to hold back a considering yet pleased grin as he stole a covert glance at Nina. She looked like she'd dozed off curled against the low wall of the raised greenspace, looking at least a little more comfortable with the pale blue coat peeking out from beneath the blanket he had ensured was once again securely wrapped around her. He glanced back to his twin, her puzzled frown startling his grin away.

"You like her," Wanda asserted soberly. Pietro shrugged, the warmth that was beginning to feel familiar once again creeping up the back of his neck.

"I like her well enough, but not like that. What, you don't like her?" he replied, deflecting with the affected self-assurance Wanda always pretended she couldn't see through. Today she wasn't pretending to buy it, and that alone made him hesitate. He frowned again, unable to miss the worry and reserve in his sister's face. Wanda made an unhappy sound to match her absent gesture.

"No, it's not that," she said, a trace of impatience in her voice. She glanced to Pietro, who could only eye her with skepticism of his own. She made another impatient sound. "It's not that, Pietro. I do like her," but she hesitated when he crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows at her in challenge. She huffed before admitting, "okay, maybe it's that a little. But Pietro…" she turned serious as she trailed off, her eyes almost fearful with worry as she glanced back to Nina.

"Be careful," she finally said, her voice little more than a pained whisper. His chest tightened when he realized what she meant. And she wasn't referring to his innocent—or so he kept insisting to himself—flirting.

"You said she was going to be alright," he said confidently, though he winced at the inadvertent thread of accusation that made its way into his voice. There was no mistaking the repressed flinch in his sister, but Wanda didn't rise to it, her face pinching with worry as her attention shifted fully to their blonde companion. As he too looked over to Nina, It was not hard to understand what his twin feared.

In the moments they'd been talking, Nina was looking worse again, the shakes returning with a vengeance as her skin seemed to almost glow with fever. Eyes wide, Wanda glanced to Pietro before rushing to the younger girl's side. Snatching up another blanket from the bag he held little interest in any longer, Pietro was settling on Nina's other side opposite his sister in an instant, wrapping the second blanket over the first as Wanda's slim hands pressed against Nina's face.

"She's burning up," she whispered fearfully, leaning closer instinctively as though that would somehow help. Pietro didn't even need to feel the blonde's skin to know that; he could feel the heat pouring off her. Wanda looked up to him. "We need to get her inside." Nodding, Pietro shifted closer, an arm wrapping gently around Nina's shoulder as Wanda edged back.

"We can go back to the apartment," he declared, disregarding their earlier decision that it wasn't safe to return to their old home. But he hesitated when he saw the look on Wanda's face at the suggestion even as he moved to pick the shivering girl up.

He winced at the small, pained sound she made even as he slid his arms carefully beneath her knees and around her back. Her lips thin with worry, Wanda steadied him as he stood.

"We can't go back there," she argued softly as she carefully retucked the blanket back around the girl in his arms, though there was no anger this time. "You know it's not safe anymore." Biting back an annoyed grumble—she was right, after all—he wracked his brain for somewhere else they could go.

"Costel!" The shout had both of them looking up to see the blonde girl Pietro had been flirting with rushing past them toward a boy—her little brother, Pietro recognized absently, the one he'd gotten the ball for.

"Costel, where did you go?" the blonde was scolding the boy, completely ignoring the Twins and their sick companion as she grabbed her brother's arm, forcing him to look at her as he explained. The boy shrugged looking innocently up toward his sister.

"The church," he said before glancing past her to the Twins. Pietro tensed at the hard look the sister gave him before turning her attention back to her little brother. He ignored the admonishing glance from his own sister. "The man says you need to come to the church," the boy continued, looking pointedly at them. Pietro and Wanda both frowned in confusion as they exchanged a look, though Wanda's gaze quickly grew wary.

"What man?" Wanda questioned, turning back to the boy. He shrugged again, looking uncertain.

"The Iron Man." Pietro nearly dropped Nina while Wanda's eyes went wide with alarm and confusion. She glanced back to Pietro, the look on her face mirroring his own.

That couldn't be right.

In his arms Nina shifted, another small pained sound escaping her. He glanced back down to the trembling blonde, his mind going nearly as fast as he could run. He didn't have to say anything as he looked back up to Wanda, who had been looking in the direction of the church Costel had been talking about. He knew what she wanted to do just from the glittering, determined expression in her eyes. They needed to get Nina inside…but if there was even the slightest chance that Stark was _actually_ at the abandoned church?

It was an opportunity they couldn't afford to pass up.


	31. Chapter 30

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

It had been decades since the old church in the heart of Novi Grad had been in use. And it showed. The façade was slowly beginning to crumble and the domed roof had long since begun to decay, the rafters and arches that supported it visible in places through the disintegrating tiles. Miraculously, many of the stained glass windows were still intact, but they were long faded, more disappearing as each year passed. The flagstones of the surrounding courtyard were cracked and lifting, shrubs and grasses straggling forth around them. Even the fence that had been erected to keep curious citizens out was beginning to sag and rust away, the scattering of flowers and notes pinned to it out of habit and tradition looking cold and withered beneath a dusting of late season snow.

It had been condemned and declared unsafe for as long as the Twins could remember.

But not only did no one seem to have the heart to actually tear it down, there simply wasn't the money to do so. So the church lingered, a decrepit, melancholic relic of days long past when Sokovia hadn't been the downtrodden, faded place it had become.

And allegedly, Tony Stark waited for them inside.

As they approached the old building, Nina was beginning to rouse in Pietro's arms, squirming with an adorably exasperated expression as she realized what was going on.

"You don't have to carry me. I'm perfectly capable of walking," she muttered petulantly when her wiggling wasn't enough to get him to put her down. Pietro chuckled. Wanda, meanwhile, shot the other girl a look that was both concerned and aggravated.

"You could hardly keep your eyes open, and you were shaking so bad you couldn't have walked far if you tried," his twin said dismissively, though there was little actual annoyance in it. The concern was much more evident. Nina huffed, weakly shoving at Pietro's chest.

"Well, I'm awake now," she insisted stubbornly. His chuckles continuing despite his serious mood and his focus on what waited for them just beyond the fence they were approaching, Pietro obliged. Gently letting her own, he still kept a steadying hand on her back, not at all surprised when she wobbled upon getting her feet beneath her. Wanda shot him an exasperated look, her eyes betraying a mix of worry for the blonde and impatience to get inside and confront whoever was waiting for them there. Worry gnawed at him too; for all her spirit, Nina was still so weak.

Which was why he couldn't help the surge of relief when, despite not shrugging off the casual arm he curled around her back, a flicker of annoyance did appear on her face at the gesture. It nearly set off his laughter again.

But quickly enough gratitude and exhaustion replaced annoyed exasperation and she was leaning into his supporting grip.

Something the vain, even chivalrous side of him basked in.

Though that too faded to be replaced with worry as she nearly fell when the three of them slipped through the gap in the fencing surrounding the church, Wanda only barely managing to keep Nina on her feet as the blonde made it through. This was a girl who had managed to take on three grown men—mercenaries, and highly trained ones too—and hold her own. That she was so weak she could barely slip through the fencing without help?

Worried really was an understatement.

As he followed Wanda and Nina through the fencing, he saw his twin growing serious as she looked up to the crumbling church. Abruptly Pietro's own features took on a grim cast, his jaw clenching as purpose and resolve surged up in his chest. Though, there was a healthy measure of anticipation there too.

'The Iron Man,' the boy had said.

Iron Man.

Stark.

They were about to come face to face with the man ultimately responsible for tearing their world apart, destroying their lives. Pietro felt his simmering anger for the man rise to vibrate in his chest. This was their chance. This was their chance to make Stark pay.

There was plenty to look forward to.

It was evening, the sun already long set, but it wasn't all that dark out, the city around them, dim as it was compared to the great metropolises of Europe and the United States, was more than enough to light the way.

The interior of the church was no different. Dim and shadowed, the candles ranged through the cavernous-feeling nave did little compared to the streaks of ambient light from the city around it that seeped in through the windows and the crumbling ceiling. Dust hung and danced through the dull beams, clinging to the stone and making the air thick and stale. The floor, once smooth and painstakingly laid, was uneven and coated with dead leaves and other decaying refuse, all covered with a thin layer of grey snow. It was a dismal-looking place, that was for sure, and it felt just as neglected as it looked. Pietro's skin nearly crawled at the atmosphere lingering within walls of the ancient structure.

And on the centre of the dais at the centre of the church, was a large, throne-like chair, just as dusty and cobwebbed as the rest of the structure, the intricate carvings on the finials and across the body appearing just worn and miserable by time and neglect.

But it wasn't the church they were there to see.

It was the person sitting in the chair that immediately drew and held their attention. He sat with his back to them, obviously waiting patiently for them to appear, positioned in such a way to make some sort of theatrical introduction, most likely. He was precisely who they had come to meet.

It was odd, though. One thing that was widely known about Stark was that he was an arrogant bastard. He _flaunted_ his fancy Iron Man suit.

So why had he draped himself with an old, dusty red swath of fabric—one of the old brocaded vestments from the church's golden days, perhaps?—hiding his beloved suit?

And why would he even bother to seek them out like this in the first place? Pietro frowned as the thought struck him. What possible reason could Stark have to track them down? As Nina shivered beneath his arm, his sister's words about the Avengers possibly looking for the slight blonde came back to him: could Stark be here for Nina?

But no, Stark couldn't possibly be here for Nina. She'd given no indication that she knew any of the Avengers. Wanda had made sure of that, having questioned Nina to find out what she knew about why she'd been taken by Strucker; as far as she knew, she was a nobody who lived alone with her mom, who was a ballet mistress in Vienna. There was no way Stark would give a fig for Nina.

Something was off. Glancing to Wanda, he knew she felt it too just from the way she held herself as she edged closer to the man on the dais.

"Talk," Wanda finally demanded, not interested in waiting patiently for him to realize they were there or to start speaking first. "And if you are wasting our time…"

"Did you know this church is in the exact centre of the city?" The Twins both started at the interruption, bewildered by not only the bizarre non-sequitur but by the fact that it was spoken by a voice that did not sound at all like the Stark they'd seen on TV. "The Elders decreed it so that everyone could be equally close to God. I like that. The geometry of belief." Pietro glanced to Wanda for direction, trusting that she'd be able to gain some insight that he couldn't thanks to her abilities. He didn't expect the frustrated frown of concentration he saw on her face. Unease tried to take root in his belly, but he ignored it. The figure on the chair made an absent gesture as he spoke, his metal hand gleaming softly in the light from the city before he seemed to hunch in on himself. "You're wondering why you can't look inside my head."

"Sometimes it's hard," Wanda countered, her voice cool and unshaken as her blue-green eyes glowed briefly scarlet, "but sooner or later, every man shows himself."

"Oh, I'm sure they do." Without warning, he stood, the thick draping sliding dramatically to the ground with a puff of dust. Wanda's eyes went wide with astonishment as she took a step back while Nina gasped in surprise as she inadvertently pressed closer against Pietro's side, her own blue-grey eyes widened in fear. Pietro could barely believe his own eyes, his mouth parting with shock.

It wasn't Stark…it was a machine…a robot…a big, gleaming robot with intelligent, gleaming red eyes.

The robot studied the three of them with its keen, oddly emotion-filled gaze. "But you needed something more than a man. That's why you let Stark take the Sceptre." Pietro glanced to Wanda, surprised at the _lack_ of surprise on her face as she nodded slowly.

"I didn't expect," she started before faltering, nodding pointedly in the robot's direction instead of saying ' _you'_. Though not quite able to bury her unease before restarting, her voice was still more assured than it had been as she continued. "But I saw Stark's fear, I knew it would control him, make him self-destruct." Pietro gaze didn't leave his sister as she spoke, a faint welling of guilt brushing away his earlier annoyance that Wanda had held him back from Stark at the base.

Really, he should know by now to trust her, he silently reprimanded himself. He should have figured she had a good reason for letting Stark go when they had _both_ been dreaming of confronting him for so many years.

The robot nodded solemnly in understanding, stepping down from the dais to pace absently around it.

"Everyone creates the thing they dread. Men of peace create engines of war, invaders create avengers, people create…smaller people? Uh…children! I lost the word there," he exclaimed with a laugh. Nina frowned in confusion, shifting uncomfortably against his side while Pietro and Wanda exchanged equally bewildered glances. This was so odd… "Children. Designed to supplant them, to help them…end." It was said in such a… _final_ way. Pietro tenses as anticipation bubbled up in his chest again.

Next to him, his twin's face grew hopeful, her sharp eyes lighting up despite the shadow of wariness that lingered over her features.

"Is that why you've come? To end the Avengers?" she asked, sounding almost doubtful in her attempt to control her own growing excitement.

But Pietro knew better. He knew her too well to misread her reaction.

Oddly enough, the robot seemed to understand too.

"I've come to save the world. But also, yeah."

With a gesture the robot motioned for the three of them to follow him, his long metal legs striding confidently away from them as he exited the church. With a final, enquiring glance, Pietro inhaled deeply as Wanda nodded, her expression eager and thoughtful. She wanted to follow.

And Pietro would be lying if he said he didn't want to as well. Nina, meanwhile, was glancing nervously between the two of them with bright, wary eyes, her face growing paler with each passing moment.

Without a word, the three of them crossed the nave of the decaying church, following the robot out. It was certainly not what Pietro had been expecting when they'd approached the crumbling building in the first place, he mused as he helped Nina navigate the shallow stairs at the back of the church. Not in the slightest.

But he had been right about one thing…they'd been given a chance to make Stark pay.

And he and Wanda were taking it.


	32. Chapter 31

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

Nina was barely able to stand by the time they made it into the lowest levels of the Sokovian Fortress standing vigil high above Novi Grad.

Strucker's Base, Pietro had explained softly as they entered the abandoned facility, responding to her obvious anxiety when she'd spotted the evidence of a bitter fight everywhere she looked. The place where the Baron who had experimented on the Twins—and her—had been defeated by the Avengers.

Just ahead of them Ultron was gesturing widely to the cavern extending deep below the base. "We'll move out right away." At first, Nina thought her head must be going fuzzy or something. There was a huge creature hanging limply—or as limply as an airplane sized creature could hang—from the ceiling. And if that wasn't enough to make her think she was seeing things, all around it were dozens upon dozens of robots appearing hard at work throughout the colossal, dimly-lit chamber. Though, just what they were working on, she couldn't even begin to guess. "This is a start, but there's something we need to begin the real work," Ultron explained.

Nina wasn't quite sure if she was fascinated by Ultron or terrified. Perhaps it was an equal measure of both that had her unable to look away as he enticed them with the sight of his veritable robot army in the bowels of Strucker's fortress.

But then, her mind was still throbbing and fuzzy from fever, making it hard to think. But that didn't stop a shiver of trepidation from going through her…or maybe that was an effect of the fever too…it was so hard to tell.

Fuzzy head or not, there was something about Ultron that left Nina feeling particularly uneasy. And judging by the looks the Twins kept exchanging, there was something about him that bothered them too.

But his offer to let them help destroy the Avengers was evidently one that was too good for them to pass up.

Not that Nina could precisely understand why…she'd always thought the Avengers were good guys. They had saved the world from an alien invasion, for God's sake…including ones that, if her memory wasn't playing tricks on her, looked just like the one hanging from the cavern's ceiling from chains whose breadth dwarfed Ultron.

They couldn't be all that bad, could they?

"All of these are…" Wanda was looking out at the robots working out in the immense space beyond the ledge where they stood. Her eyes were huge with disbelief and wary fascination. And Nina couldn't blame her. It felt like her own eyes were nearly popping from her skull despite her exhaustion.

"Me?" Ultron supplied happily, propulsion packs on his back and legs activating so he could reach out and pull on a chain, activating a mechanism that had a huge piece of machinery moving closer to the ledge they were on. "I have what the Avengers never will. Harmony. They're discordant, disconnected." Nina was by now leaning heavily against Pietro, her arms clutched tight around her torso as her eyelids threatened to drag down over her eyes. Ultron's voice began to fade as he began talking about Stark for some reason…she was so tired…and she ached everywhere…

"Everyone's plan is not to kill them," Pietro's voice seemed to vibrate against her, the bitterness in his tone rousing Nina enough to bring her attention back to what was happening around her.

"And make them martyrs?" Ultron asked with a trace of disdain, as though he couldn't quite understand immediately why Pietro didn't agree. "You need patience," he counselled, obviously attempting to be encouraging, "need to see the big picture." Pietro tensed, his arm tightening involuntarily around Nina.

"I don't need to see the big picture. I have a little picture. I take it out and look at it every day." There was no mistaking the latent pain in his voice despite the accusing cast. Next to them, Wanda made a small sound, something between warning and misery. Ultron studied the speedster before responding, nodding faintly in comprehension.

"You lost your parents in the bombings. I've seen the records."

"The records are not the picture," Pietro dismissed irritably.

"Pietro," Wanda warned, her own pain at the topic seeping into her voice. Nina whimpered despite herself as Pietro's grip had tightened further still, to the point where it was hurting her already abused and aching body. Immediately he loosened his grip, concern flickering across his tight features as he glanced down to her. Nina's heart nearly broke at the hurt and grief lingering in his eyes.

She couldn't imagine…

"No, please." All three sets of eyes turned back to the robot. Pietro drew in a deep breath, gathering his composure even as he glanced to his sister. Nina couldn't help the feeling of dread pooling in the pit of her stomach at the hollow look in his eyes.

"We were ten years old," he said tenderly, gaze still locked on Wanda's, seeming to draw strength from the contact as he shared the obviously bittersweet memory, "having dinner, the four of us." She could tell even before he said the words what happened next, recognizing the pain surging up in his eyes as they grew hard, while next to him Wanda's eyes dropped, growing bright with a visceral pain of her own. It was hard to witness. It was harder to hear, especially at how…angry and bitter and resigned he sounded as he explained what happened, gesturing absently as he did. "When the first shell hits, two floors below, it makes a hole in the floor. It's big. Our parents go in, and the whole building starts coming apart. I grab her, roll under the bed and the second shell hits. But, it doesn't go off. It just…sits there in the rubble, three feet from our faces. And on the side of the shell is painted one word…"

Nina listened to their story with growing horror, painfully aware of every change in inflection; how Pietro's grip around her shoulders would loosen then tighten again, his thumb absently rubbing against her arm, seeming to draw some measure of comfort or grounding from the contact.

It was awful. To have lived through that? She couldn't imagine the pain of losing her mom at all, much less watching it happen, helpless to do anything to stop it.

God, it hurt just thinking about what her mom was probably going through right that minute. She'd be driving herself mad with worry and fear. There could've been little doubt what happened outside their apartment, what with Nina's keys still in the door and her phone and bag abandoned on the landing. A sob tried to rise up in Nina's chest at even wondering what on Earth her mom was going to do. How would she even go about _finding_ her? There was no way the regular police were going to be of much help, not when the men who took her were obviously professionals…and then there was the fact that the twins had told her _days_ had passed since she'd first arrived at Strucker's facility…

By the time Wanda interjected with the name on the shell—Stark; their hatred for the billionaire now made perfect sense—Nina was trembling with sympathetic heartache, her arm having disentangled itself from hugging tight around her own body to curl around Pietro, reflexively offering whatever meagre support she could. He glanced down to her at the gesture, his hard gaze softening slightly as she gave him a weak smile, hoping to convey, well, something comforting. She wasn't quite sure how to put it into words.

But whatever she managed to say without words, it worked, and he squeezed her shoulder briefly in silent thanks.

"We were trapped for two days," he added softly, still looking down at Nina, though his blue-green eyes had grown distant and sightless. Just over her shoulder, Wanda took up their story, her voice sad at first, though it quickly grew cold enough with resentment that Nina actually shivered. They were both so _angry_.

"Every effort to save us, every shift in the bricks, I think, 'this will set it off,'" she hesitated for a moment, looking up at Ultron with nothing short of hatred in her eyes. "We wait for two days for Tony Stark to kill us," she said harshly. Nina nearly flinched at the tone. Absently, Pietro chafed her shoulder.

"I know what they are," Pietro added with a small nod, his voice low and dangerous. Part of Nina felt compelled to pull away, frightened by the threatening resolve in his voice and the cool anger in his sister's. But at the same time, she instinctively wanted nothing more than to press closer, to offer what comfort she could and draw reassurance in return. It was a dark world she'd been thrust into when those men had plucked her from her doorstep. And the Twins hadn't so much as hesitated in taking her under their wing.

What they wanted wasn't evil…

…they wanted justice.

How could she argue with that?

Again Ultron was nodding with what looked like understanding, his soft voice oddly resonant but still somehow sympathetic. "I wondered why Strucker's experiments succeeded on the two of you. Now I don't." Next to her, Pietro straightened, his gaze once again focusing on Ultron as his brow furrowed slightly with interest. Behind her, Wanda shifted, her hand ghosting around Nina to rest on her brother's back.

If it was possible, the robot's face grew more serious, his frightening eyes growing more intense as he stepped closer.

"We will make it right," he assured them, glancing between the Twins before settling briefly on Pietro. "You and I can hurt them. But you," he turned to Wanda, fingertip ghosting over her face as he looked down at her with something akin to awe, "will tear them apart." Nina shivered at the undisguised cruelty in his voice, eyes dropping to where her fingers clutched at Pietro's jacket for support. Dimly, she heard the faint whir and dull clunks that signalled Ultron had stepped back from Wanda.

"And you?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious as he turned his unsettlingly human gaze to Nina. Eyes flying up to the robot, she nearly gulped as a surge of fear went through her at the scrutiny. Next to her Wanda reached out and squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"It's—it's just me and my mom," Nina finally said, her voice wavering despite her best efforts. She was too exhausted and too frightened for any attempt at appearing otherwise. "For as long as I can remember it was just us. Her and me against the world…" She faltered, a wave of fear and longing for things to go back to the way they were overwhelming her. Wanda's hand squeezed hers again as Pietro absently rubbed her shoulder, offering the same sort of comfort she had tried to give him moments before. Though she wouldn't have believed it would before, the gestures truly did help.

After a moment she managed to regain some measure of composure. "Then these men showed up and—and kidnapped me and brought me…here…I tried to fight back, to get away…but…" she trailed off, the terror she'd been fighting that day when she'd been attacked resurfacing at the memory. The consoling pressure of Wanda's hand didn't ease while Pietro's arm tightened slightly around her.

"You should have seen the men who brought her in; not one was less than a little beat up," Pietro broke in then, an impish grin teasing his lips. Nina started at how… _admiring_ he sounded. She'd felt like she'd failed when she hadn't been able to escape, but he thought that what she'd done was admirable _despite_ the fact that she'd been captured. It sent a flutter of warmth to the centre of her chest. A low chuckling sound came from Ultron.

"A fighter," he declared thoughtfully. "Of course." It was incredibly disconcerting to see a robot _smile_ , she thought with a shiver. The A.I. nodded to himself after a moment, reaching out as though about to touch her the way he almost had with Wanda. Unable to help it, Nina tensed, only barely able to keep from flinching away. But he didn't get close enough to touch her anyway, his fingers curling back to himself as he retracted his arm. "It's a pity your abilities have yet to manifest. I'm terribly curious what they'll be. You could be so helpful…" he trailed off. Nina's eyes blew wide as anxiety suddenly began thrumming in her chest. Pietro's arm tightened again, something she was abruptly grateful for considering how weak her knees suddenly felt.

"We don't know yet if Strucker's experiments worked. All we know is—" Pietro hesitated, glancing nervously down at Nina, as though he very nearly said something he shouldn't have.

"That she didn't die?" All the blood left Nina's face as her knees finally did give out. It was only Pietro's grip that kept her from collapsing outright. Wanda's hand tightened almost painfully. Ultron, meanwhile was either oblivious to her reaction or didn't particularly care. "That she didn't die is promising," he mused. "In every other attempt Strucker made, subjects died within the first twenty-four hours, their bodies torn apart by the Sceptre's energy—I've read the files—" he editorialized before resuming his theorizing, "the only other ones to survive were the two of you… It makes it likely that her body has accepted the Sceptre's effects and is even now adjusting to her new abilities; it was several days before the two of you began to exhibit your new powers, after all."

Nina shivered again, this time definitely from distress…she didn't _want_ powers…did she? Part of her couldn't deny the appeal…

The Twins, meanwhile, looked thoughtful, exchanging loaded glances that seemed to hold entire conversations, eyes flickering to her in turn.

Neither contradicted Ultron.

All at once a chill of fear shuddered through Nina, as did a flutter of anticipation.

"Oh, I'd say it's very likely she has powers. But that may just be my optimism speaking," Ultron murmured, sounding rather upbeat in the most unsettling way.

Meanwhile, Nina's mind was reeling, fighting against the haze of exhaustion trying to drown her again. So much so that she paid little attention to the conversation continuing on around her. More than that, she barely noticed when Pietro began urging her along beside him, leading her deeper into the lower levels of the base.

It was several minutes before she was able to drag her focus back to her surroundings, disoriented to realize Ultron had led her and the Twins away from the cavern to a range of smaller, nook-like storage rooms, one of which a smaller robot was depositing what looked like a cot and some blankets and even some food. Nodding in silent thanks to the larger robot, Pietro proceeded to guide Nina into the makeshift room, Wanda close on his heels as he led her toward the cot.

She tried her best to hold in a pained whimper as Pietro helped ease her down, but it didn't quite work. Mortified at being such a burden, she tried to apologize even as Wanda draped another blanket around her shivering frame—when had she started shivering again?—but the words ended up being little more than a gasp. Seeming to know exactly what she was about to say, Wanda just rubbed her back soothingly while Pietro shot her a sympathetic smile, brushing a few clinging strands of hair from her face.

"Don't worry about it," he said offhandedly, though not unkindly before standing and gesturing between himself and Wanda as she settled on the cot next to Nina. "We know what it's like."

Behind him Ultron watched from the door of the little room, his human-like eyes glowing with curiosity as he watched the three of them interact. Nina tried to ignore him, not quite succeeding.

"You should get some rest," Wanda ordered gently. Nina only nodded tiredly, unable to argue.

"And we need to be going." The three of them looked up to Ultron, who was still watching them impassively from just outside, "we have a lot to do." Wanda's eyes widened minutely as she glanced from her twin, down to Nina and then up to Ultron. Pietro shifted, looking distinctly uncertain as he met Nina's bewildered gaze.

"But what about Nina?" Wanda broke in worriedly. "We can't leave her on her own right now!" Ultron chuckled.

"Don't worry," he said cheerfully, "I'll look out for her. After all," he added as one of his sentries walked up to stand beside him, its eyes shifting from pale blue to red as Ultron's voice suddenly emanated from the smaller robot.

"I can be in two places at once."


	33. Chapter 32

**New York City, USA**

**Spring 2015**

Naturally, Nadine barely slept a wink after the whole Ultron debacle. She was far too distressed. Part of her had wanted to cry, to scream, to rage at the injustice of it. Another part of her had wanted to plan, to strategize, to regroup.

Those parts had warred all night, long after the impromptu 'debriefing' in the lab had wrapped.

Nadine honestly didn't remember as much of it as she should. She had been far too lost in her own head.

The previous evening had ended up being far, far more exciting than Nadine would have liked. She hadn't been in the mood for 'open bar' excitement in the first place, so even though 'homicidal robot', had been slightly more fitting to her mood, it had been just as unwelcome.

Although, fighting said robots had been rather cathartic…

Nadine had nearly lost her temper more than once as the Avengers argued and debated what had happened and what to do about it. She'd watched the whole thing from where she'd stood just past Barton on the landing hemming two sides of the Lab, not far from the set of stairs where Natasha lingered, listening to the Avengers bickering about their new threat with half an ear. What little she did pay attention to left her hidden scowl dangerously close to emerging despite her enforced expression of neutrality.

It meant there was going to be another delay. She'd known it then with a sick, disappointed feeling in her gut. Ultron was going to take precedence over Nina. Tactically and rationally, Nadine knew it was the right play. A threat like Ultron had to be considered a priority and be dealt with accordingly and quickly.

But that hadn't stopped—still didn't stop—the slightly less rational, maternal side of Nadine that was rebelling violently against the idea.

At least she could take some small comfort that at least some of her new colleagues had felt some genuine remorse for having to bench their promise to help find Nina. She knew Barton and Natasha had been leaning on their old contacts in effort to help, and judging from the reassuring hand Barton had laid on her shoulder as he'd passed when they'd all filed into the Lab the night before and the matching expression on his face, she knew he was still planning on keeping up the search. Just as the determined glint in Natasha's eyes every time she'd glanced to Nadine had said the same thing, even despite her words to the contrary at one point.

For all that the terrifying, psychopathic robot with a 'destroy the Avengers' complex and all but unlimited access to anything connected to the internet worldwide should naturally take precedence over a missing teenager, it had been incredibly reassuring that at least some of the Avengers had shown no intention of forgetting her daughter completely.

Not that it was the biggest of reliefs just then…

Even when talk of nuclear codes had started or when Thor had stormed in to confront Stark by lifting him clear off the ground by the throat—which was oddly satisfying, if she was being honest—Nadine couldn't help but feel apathetic.

Oh, she was concerned. She wasn't heartless or wholly without a conscience. She could easily recognize the threat Ultron posed and the idea of him running about unchecked made her feel ill. But with the uncertainty of Nina's safety hanging over her head like a building waiting to come down on top of her, Nadine couldn't focus on the Ultron threat. Not completely.

Besides, Avenging was their world. Not hers. She was just a highly-skilled assassin who had been along for the ride in what was now starting to feel like a vain hope of getting her daughter back. Dealing with Ultron was their responsibility—twice over, really, since it was their fault he'd been created in the first place. Her responsibility was Nina. That was the promise she'd made to her child the very instant her baby girl had made her presence known with her first fluttering kicks in the womb. Nadine's responsibility was Nina. That had to be her priority, no matter that a small little voice in the back of her head was trying to convince her that helping in the fight against Ultron was the right thing to do. That the A.I. was just as much a threat to Nina as he was to everyone else…

Because he was a threat. A very big one, and not just for all the surface reasons the Avengers had been obviously worrying about. A spear of dread had gone through her like a bullet at Natasha's comment about Ultron knowing them better than they knew themselves; did that include her? She had forcefully pushed the thought aside then and was resolved to keep doing so now. She couldn't afford to think on that. Not when the chance of Ultron digging into her past seemed slim. Not when she had other concerns.

Yet, she still couldn't fight the feeling that, somehow, she would end up getting recruited to fight against Ultron. She hadn't been able to the night before, and she still couldn't now.

The only other thing that really got to her the night before was the news that the 'guy' Ultron had killed was J.A.R.V.I.S.. That had felt like a kick in the chest. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been her best tool in her search for Nina. She'd also been growing rather fond of the U.I.. She had even begun seeing him as a member of the team. A feeling that was apparently unanimous. Hearing that they'd lost J.A.R.V.I.S. had been hard on all the Avengers. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been far more than just a U.I.; he really had been part of the team.

It hadn't been long after that that Nadine had slipped from the room, only barely managing a reassuring glance—of sorts—in answer to Natasha's questioning one when Banner and Stark began bickering about whether or not they had actually succeeded in creating Ultron in the first place.

She'd had no interest in listening to Stark pontificating about how he'd thought they were doing a good thing. Not that it really mattered anymore. As Natasha had said, the genie was out of that bottle. But overall, Nadine had to agree with Thor: Stark and Banner shouldn't have messed with the Sceptre.

And now she was what felt like a hundred steps further away from finding her daughter.

It was hard not to feel a little resentment against the two geniuses for that…

Nadine sighed as she leaned back in her chair, fingertips rising to massage at her temple. She was tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. But there was no way she could stop now. Not when she had been all but sent back to square one in her search for her daughter.

Natasha hadn't been kidding when she'd said Ultron had access to everything. When sleep had proved elusive, Nadine had dived headfirst back into her search for Nina and the Maximoffs.

Only to find everything gone. All her work, all J.A.R.V.I.S.' work, everything he'd been still running to try and track the Maximoffs. Gone.

And she thought she might have been onto something too. The evening before, just as Natasha had absconded with her to get her ready for the disaster of a party, Nadine was fairly certain she had spotted the Maximoff brother skulking around one of the smaller market squares in Novi Grad, not far from two of the suspected former addresses she'd managed to track down for them. It was grainy and J.A.R.V.I.S. had done a great deal of enhancement on the sad, lonely little camera feed from that market to even get her a closer look, but she was fairly certain it had been him. It was one of the searches she'd had been running and monitoring the night before—she'd had J.A.R.V.I.S. scanning through that camera's footage on previous days to try and discover if he'd been returning regularly to that market—and something she'd been intending to investigate further today. Only now?

The feeds were gone. Not even dead. Gone. Just gone. She couldn't even tell if the files had been erased or the cameras disconnected or both. But to her, it seemed almost like the cameras weren't even there anymore. Some of the footage she'd been combing through with J.A.R.V.I.S. was still on the servers, but without the U.I. there to help her enhance and analyse it? Well, to say it was going painfully slow was an understatement; really, she'd probably be much better off to simply head to Novi Grad herself…

And really, the only reason she hadn't was because she didn't want to just run out on Natasha again. Not without saying goodbye this time.

So when the Avengers had started reappearing earlier that morning, Nadine had already been at work for hours reconstructing what she could. She'd made some progress beyond where she'd been before Ultron's interference, but not enough to alleviate her frustration or the irrational feeling that she was no closer to finding Nina than she had been when she started her search.

But there was something that didn't sit right with her. Something that niggled at the back of her mind, further fuelling her frustration. It was another, smaller reason behind her reluctance to simply disappear again.

Why on Earth would Ultron delete all her progress in her search for Nina? What possible motivation could he have? At first she believed he'd wrought a complete wipe of the Avenger's database, but she'd quickly realized that wasn't the case, especially when the others began their own task to try and find him in earnest.

Her next suspicion was that it had something to do the Sceptre. After all, he'd been created from it and apparently the Maximoff twins owed their abilities to the alien device as well. Moreover, the robot had stolen the thing. Perhaps there had been something in the Maximoffs' files that he didn't want them to find out about the Sceptre?

Whatever the reason, there was some other motivation. A piece she was missing.

But when the piece presented itself, Nadine was, for far, far from satisfied.

She was furious.

More than that, she was terrified.

She was interrupted from her work on the CCTV feeds from Novi Grad when Steve passed the corner of the Tower where she was working, tablet in hand as he headed for Stark's main Lab.

"Ryker," the Captain called, pulling her thoughts irritably from the video enhancement program she'd been running on some of the remaining footage from Novi Grad, "we may have something." Without waiting for a response, he was slipping into the Lab, leaving a fuming Nadine in his wake. As she'd cynically anticipated, there was the assumption that she was on board with the Ultron hunt…

But she could admit to herself she needed a distraction from waiting and staring at a screen while her image enhancements rendered, and Rogers' briefing would provide just that. Besides, there was no such thing as too much intelligence. So despite her annoyance, she stood and followed the Captain into the Lab.

She was entering just behind Banner as Steve was handing the tablet he'd been carrying to Thor. Natasha was sitting at the computer station they were all gathering around as Stark approached himself, peering curiously between the Captain and the Asgardian.

"What's this?" Stark asked as he came to a stop beside Natasha, only to have Thor wordlessly shove the tablet in his direction in response. Things had obviously not thawed between them, Nadine noted without surprise.

"A message," Steve supplied instead. Tactfully ignoring Thor's less than friendly behaviour, Tony flipped the tablet from where he'd awkwardly caught it against his chest. "Ultron killed Strucker." Nadine's heart sunk, anger beginning to pool in her belly.

Strucker was dead?

The anger grew. She hadn't allowed herself to think on it seriously before, her thoughts focused on finding Nina first, but she had been fully intending to make Strucker pay herself.

Dearly…and painfully…

And now Ultron…Nadine caught sight of Natasha's assessing look in her direction. It took a great deal of willpower to push thoughts of her now impossible intentions of serving justice on the German Baron aside, carefully rearranging her features into her default neutral expression.

And considering how furious she was quickly becoming?

It was hard.

"And he did a Banksy at the crime scene, just for us," Tony commented back, his usual irreverence dulled by a similar reserve to the feeling weighing on the rest of his teammates. Even his trademark dry humour didn't stand a chance in the face of his uncertainty about Ultron's plans, it seemed…

"This is a smokescreen," Natasha broke in, bringing Nadine's thoughts back to the present. Natasha was frowning as she glanced pointedly between her teammates. Something about this turn of events was bothering her. But running over the news in her head again, Nadine couldn't seem to pick out why. Her anger that she'd been denied a chance at Strucker was too distracting. "Why send a message when you've just given a speech?"

"Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss," Steve said carefully, his face thoughtful. Nadine nearly groaned…her head was certainly not in the game…not with her anger and her worry for Nina clouding her judgement. She needed to get her head back on straight, otherwise she was never going to find her daughter.

She needed to step back from this Ultron mess.

Natasha was already turning back to the computer to dig into the Avenger's Database as Nadine made her decision. "Yeah, I bet he…yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased," Natasha was confirming as Nadine turned, heading for the door with silent steps. There was nothing more she could do here.

"Nadine?" The blonde assassin paused at Natasha's questioning tone, glancing back toward the huddled Avengers. "You're leaving?" Nadine's face went instinctively—defensively, if she was being honest—blank at her sister's alarmed tone.

"Strucker was the last avenue I could pursue here," she said quietly, meeting her sister's gaze pointedly, though there was no hiding the regret in her tone, not entirely. "The cameras are a wash; if there was anything substantial to find anyway, it's gone. There's nothing more for me to try here. There's no point in me staying, _lisichka_."

"What about Ultron? We could use your help, Ryker." It was asked innocently enough, even hopefully, but Nadine levelled a cool glance at Banner, dimly satisfied at the apologetic expression it brought to his face as he remembered just why she'd been there in the first place.

"Killer robots are your thing," she answered, surprised herself at the faint softening of her tone, "not mine. I need to find my daughter." She didn't wait for a response, continuing on to the door without another backward glance.

"Ultron's recruited the Maximoffs." Nadine's hand froze a hair's breadth from the handle as she registered what Rogers had said, all but feeling the final piece click into place.

That was why Ultron had wiped all her work toward finding the Twins…

Slowly she turned back, her eyes intent as they latched on to the Captain. She could feel her fury rising again. Rogers stared impassively back.

"Banner's right, Ryker. We could use your help. More than that, you still need us," he said firmly, though his own voice softened for a moment, a flicker of apology passing briefly over his features before the soldier took over. Nadine was too astonished and too angry to care. "We find Ultron, we find the Maximoffs. They might even be the key to finding him just as they are your key to finding Nina. You helping us find Ultron will help you find Nina." Nadine nearly scowled despite herself.

She knew she'd somehow get roped into dealing with this mess…

"You'd better be right, Rogers," she said lowly, not caring to hide just how angry she was that he hadn't told her of that development immediately, or that he seemed to be _using_ her drive to find Nina to help them with Ultron. She was probably overreacting—Natasha obviously thought so, considering the alarmed and bewildered look in her eyes—but Nadine didn't care. Not when her daughter's life was at risk. Steve frowned at her reaction himself, stepping toward her with a hand raised in appeal.

"We're not your enemy, Ryker," Rogers broke in, his normally calm tone beginning to betray his frustration.

"Then you should have told me he was working with the Twins," she snapped back. The tension in the room was rising quickly along with Nadine's rising temper.

"Nadya," Natasha broke in then, standing from the computer, her face unusually open with concern, "we're still going to help you get her back. You know that!" At the plea in her little sister's tone, Nadine's temper broke, leaving her feeling tired again.

She just wanted this to be over…

"I know, _lisichka_ ," she said, her voice heavy and threaded with apology. "I do. But you all need to focus on Ultron. I get it. But I need to focus on Nina."

"If the Maximoffs are with Ultron, it's possible your kid is too," Barton said softly from where he'd come up behind Nadine. "Steve's got a point, Ryker. Joining forces is the best way to go." Nadine let out a loaded sigh. She'd known as soon as Steve had mentioned the Twins that her best option was to keep working with the Avengers.

That didn't mean she had to like it, though.

Even if a little part of her actually did.

Silently she nodded, earning a faint, relieved sigh from Natasha.

"So how do we go about doing that?" Banner broke in, bringing them all back around to the task immediately at hand: how to find Ultron.

"We find out what Strucker knew that Ultron didn't want us to find out," Rogers said in response.

"How? Nat just said everything's gone," Banner countered. Stark made a small, objecting sound before amending the statement.

"Not everything."

And by 'not everything', Stark was referring to boxes and boxes of hard copy files on Strucker, some of which had even been brought in on short notice from the billionaire's contacts in a few different agencies in Washington and New York.

It would've been almost amusing to see the likes of the Avengers fighting through a mountain of paperwork instead of bad guys, but Nadine wasn't in the mood to see the humour just then…though Thor carelessly throwing cardboard lids hither and yon as he dove into each new box did nearly manage to bring a grin to her face.

It wasn't exactly how she'd envisioned continuing her search, but at least it gave her a purpose, which was something. She'd hit a dead end for the time being on her search for the Maximoffs specifically, so helping out the Avengers in their needle and haystack search at least gave her a task to put her mind to.

As Nadine was digging into a set of files on Strucker's education, Rogers was setting another box down across the table. "Known associates," he said quietly as Banner reached in and grabbed a small stack, shooting Steve a look as he did so. Rogers shrugged. "Well, Strucker had a lot of friends," he added dryly. Banner made a face.

"Well, these people are all horrible," the doctor replied sarcastically. Nadine nearly snorted beside him. Really, was that any sort of surprise? She probably had the box with the fewest horrible people: people who just had the bad luck of attending the same schools as the Baron.

"Wait." The entire table paused with interest, looking up to Stark as he focused intently on the file Banner was flipping through. "I know that guy." Frowning, wondering as everyone else was what Stark was on to, Bruce handed it over. Just as curious, Nadine absently closed the file she'd been skimming through, placing it back in the box in front of her; there was nothing there that she was seeing. Tony was nodding absently as he glanced over the file, handing off a page for the others to look at as he did. "From back in the day. He operates off the African coast; black market arms." As Thor took the page he'd offered, Steve was levelling Stark with a hard, accusing look that immediately had Stark bristling. Nadine eyed the pair as she edged around the table to get a look at the page Thor was holding.

If there was one thing Nadine had learned about Stark, it was that he was very much opposed to the black market arms trade and got very serious very quickly when he was accused of any sort of involvement in it back in the day.

"There are conventions, alright?" the billionaire defended sharply, nearly succeeding at hiding his anger at being even inadvertently lumped in with such people behind his usual offhanded attitude. "You meet people, I didn't sell him anything." Nadine glanced down at the page in the Asgardian's hand, Thor lowering the page slightly so she and Steve both could look over it with him. Ulysses Klaue…the name sounded familiar.

At the end of the table Stark had turned thoughtful: "He was talking about finding something new, a game changer; it was all very 'Ahab.'" Next to her Thor pointed to one of the photos on the sheet.

"This." Nadine leaned in closer as the others did, peering at what the Asgardian had noticed. It looked like scarring of some kind. She couldn't quite get a good look from where she was, not with Thor angling the sheet toward Stark so he could see.

"Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it…" Thor shook his head, correcting the billionaire as he gestured to the sheet to make his point.

"No, those are tattoos, this is a brand." Nadine frowned. He was right. Branding was a very distinct form of punishment in certain areas of the world with certain organizations. She was familiar with many of the more common ones, but this one was pretty obscure. She'd never seen it before.

"Do you have access to a database on this sort of thing? Find out what it means?" she asked softly, glancing around the table. Natasha nodded even as Banner reached for the page, Thor obligingly handing it over.

It was several minutes before Banner's search bore fruit.

"Oh, yeah." The doctor leaned in as the computer screen presented them with a translation on the symbol the brand was of. "It's a word in an African dialect meaning ' _thief_ ,' in a much less friendly way," he summarized, turning back to the rest of the team.

"What dialect?" Rogers asked, beating the rest of them to the question. Banner turned back to the screen for a moment.

"Wakanada…? Wa…Wa…Wakanda." The atmosphere in the room shifted tangibly. Obviously they'd stumbled on something important. Nadine glanced to Natasha, not quite following even as Rogers and Stark turned to each other. There was no doubt from the suddenly serious, concerned expressions on their faces that they definitely knew the significance.

"If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…" Stark said worriedly to the Captain, his voice low and thoughtful as he mulled over the implications of whatever he'd realized. Steve shifted, looking distinctly unsettled.

"I thought your father said he got the last of it?" Nadine was very confused now, Rogers' comment not clearing things up in the slightest. Natasha, though seemed to have a lightbulb go off. Still, Nadine apparently wasn't the only one who'd lost the thread of the conversation.

"I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?" Bruce asked as he returned to the group surrounding the table covered in files. Even as Stark fixed the doctor with an unreadable look, Steve was turning to glance over his shoulder. The pieces immediately clicked for Nadine even as Stark voiced it, her gaze following the Captain's to land on the iconic red and blue painted shield sitting off to the side.

"The strongest metal on earth." As Nadine turned to exchange a loaded glance with her little sister, Steve was turning back to Stark.

"Where is this guy now?" That was something Nadine could answer. As Banner had been looking up the meaning of Klaue's brand, she'd picked up the rest file on Klaue as it was passed around once Tony had finished with it. Not only had the file indicated his suspected base of operations, it had refreshed Nadine's memory. She had heard of this guy before through the different Underworld channels she kept an ear to for her work as The Ghost.

"Still out of a defunct salvage yard on the African Coast, near Johannesburg," she supplied, passing the file off to Rogers. He glanced up to her in surprise, as did Stark, Barton and Banner. Natasha, on the other hand, looked on the verge of chuckling at the surprised looks of her teammates. Nadine shot her an exasperated look before explaining.

"It's in the file as a suspected base of operations. And you hear things when you've got ties to the Underworld. Like it or not, assassins and arms dealers do sometimes cross paths," she pointed out dryly. As Rogers nodded slowly, glancing down to the file another thought struck her, causing the blonde assassin to frown thoughtfully.

"There was someone a few years back trying almost desperately to get me to go after T'Chaka, Wakanda's King. I don't do that, so I barely paid it any notice," she mused aloud. A few of the others glanced up to her, curious as she leaned against the side of the table, nodding toward the file in Rogers' hand as she did so. "I can't help but wonder now if it was him. I've heard he can hold quite the grudge." Across the table Stark shrugged, a faint, distant expression of agreement on his face. Rogers, meanwhile, was nodding absently to himself as he finished skimming through the file.

"Okay. So he's in South Africa." Flipping it shut, the Captain glanced around the table. "So I guess that's where we're going." Immediately everyone was shifting and straightening, dropping files left in hand even as Steve gave the order.

"Suit up."


	34. Chapter 33

**Johannesburg, South Africa**

**Spring 2015**

What was it about the dens of black market arms dealers? As Nadine took up her position, her rifle held at the ready in front of her, she couldn't help the thought as it crossed her mind.

She hadn't been in many—one or two at most—and certainly none quite like this, housed as it was in the slowly rusting innards of a colossal ship carcass. There was a certain intimidating quality to the choice of headquarters, at least.

But the atmosphere was the same, right down to the faintly oppressive ambiance to the oily, gritty feel of the air and the pervading scent of gun oil, metal filings and gunpowder.

At its core, Klaue's operation really was no different than any other…perhaps on a slightly larger scale, but that was a detail only.

And really, that was beside the point. They weren't there because Klaue was a black market arms dealer. They were there because they suspected Klaue had managed to get his hands on Vibranium and they were suspecting that the rare metal was high on Ultron's wish list.

Well, that was the theory. And considering that she now had a sightline on Ultron perusing what appeared to be specialized canisters containing what she imagined was Vibranium? Their theory was correct.

"Ready to engage," she heard Rogers murmur through the earpiece, "Romanoff, Ryker, Barton; you all in position?" Peering down the canyon-like belly of the ship to the forward section where she knew Barton and Natasha were headed, Nadine took stock of her surroundings before she responded.

"I'm set," she murmured back, pausing as Natasha and Barton checked in themselves before relaying what she saw through her scope; she was positioned on the highest interior level of the ship that ran along what she suspected had once been several of the ship's main cargo holds. "I have a visual on Ultron, the Twins and possibly Klaue. I don't see anyone else, though. And Ultron's got a big new body," she added warily.

"Upgrades…fun. Well, we know he's got some new robot friends, too," Stark added dryly, "he probably brought a few of them along."

"Then stay sharp," Rogers added, nearly causing Nadine to roll her eyes. That was obvious, she thought. "This could get messy real quick. Klaue and his men are still here too. We don't know what their stake is yet in all this. They could be working with Ultron." Okay, that was a fair point.

She frowned then as she lost sight of Klaue. Apparently the others noticed too.

"Moving to engage," the Captain warned as Ultron's voice began to rise, venting about Stark.

"Ahh, Junior," Stark crooned, choosing that moment to descend to the walkway across the hold from Ultron. Nadine groaned; he really couldn't help himself, could he. "You're gonna break your old man's heart." Ultron turned at the sound of the billionaire's voice, his oddly expressive face darkening. Behind Stark Thor and Rogers took up their positions on either side of him. Nadine shifted, settling her rifle more firmly against her shoulder. She could feel the air changing. It always did right before a fight broke out.

Ultron stepped forward, sizing up the three Avengers before him. "If I have to." Behind him the Twins were shifting themselves, edging up toward Ultron to taking up their own positions just behind their metal ally. It took every ounce of self-control Nadine had not to rush down there and take matters into her own hands.

Those two knew where Nina was. They had to. Nadine was nearly vibrating with fury and urgency, her hands tightening on her rifle until her knuckles whitened and ached with the pressure. She was so close to the answers she craved…

"Easy, Nadya," she heard Natasha murmur through the earpiece. Nadine's eyes slid shut for a split-second as she fought to rein her emotions back in. Of course Natasha would suspect what was going through her mind right at that moment.

"We don't have to break anything," Thor was declaring as Nadine fought her own internal battle.

"Clearly you've never made an omelette." Nadine nearly started at Ultron's rather Stark-like response. She obviously wasn't the only one. Off where he was positioned down and across the hold from her, Barton let out a poorly restrained snicker. Nadine could practically imagine the exasperated looks the billionaire was likely getting from his teammates on the walkway.

"He beat me by one second," Stark immediately defended.

"Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark." Nadine was immediately tensing again, peering down the barrel of her rifle toward the Twins as the brother—Pietro, Nadine recalled—edged forward to stand next to Ultron, ready to act if she needed to.

Only to hesitate; there was no mistaking the hatred in their faces. The blame. What on earth had happened to these two to create that kind of enmity? They were barely older than Nina! And they had her daughter? A chill threatened to go up Nadine's spine at the thought. "It's what, comfortable? Like old times?" the boy taunted, glancing down to the weaponry arrayed prominently below them all, ready and waiting to be shipped out. Nadine could almost hear Stark tensing through the earpiece.

"This was never my life."

"You two can still walk away from this," Rogers broke in, earning a matching contemptuous glance from both Twins.

"Oh, we will," the girl—Wanda—drawled assuredly back. But the Captain wasn't deterred.

"I know you've suffered—" _No_ , a small, sad voice in the back of Nadine's head answered, _he has no idea_. Trying to placate them like that was not going to work. Those two had to be holding in a great deal of pain to inspire expressions like the ones they wore on their young faces. That she recognized easily enough.

"Uuughh!" Ultron cut him off with a sound of disgust, his voice laden with contempt, "Captain America. God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but…"

"If you believe in peace, then let us keep it," Thor interjected calmly. Ultron scoffed.

"I think you're confusing peace with quiet."

Tony was just as skeptical, brushing the comment aside. "Yuh-huh. What's the Vibranium for?" As Ultron answered Nadine's skin prickled with warning. And with good reason too.

"I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan!" And all hell broke loose.

In an instant Ultron had activated what looked like an anti-gravity device in his hand to yank Stark toward him before hitting the billionaire hard with some sort of concussive beam even as two more robots dropped to engage Rogers and Thor. Nadine didn't even think.

In quick succession, three bullets discharged from her rifle.

And in quick succession three bullets impacted on Ultron, two to the side of his head, one to his neck.

All three ricocheted off his hard exoskeleton. Nadine nearly gaped…those were her high-density armour-piercing rounds.

Instantly he was looking in her direction, a disconcerting smile on his cybernetic face.

"Oh, you brought The Ghost too. Replacement for Dr. Banner?" But even as Nadine's finger tightened on the trigger for another shot—aiming right for one of those disturbing human-like eyes—Iron Man slammed into Ultron's chest, spoiling her shot. An angry cry snarled out of her throat as she tried to track the giant robot, even going so far as to hop up to balance against the railing, but he and Stark were moving too quickly, weaving into and around each other.

As much as she wasn't terribly fond of him, she couldn't risk hitting Stark.

"Heads up, Ryker! We've got incoming!" Barton's shout immediately had her dragging her attention away from the duelling Ultron and Iron Man. Down below Thor and the Captain were still occupied with Ultron's minions. But there was no missing the men beginning to mobilize around them; behind her she could hear them approaching, shouts echoing through the rusting corridors as boots thudded and clanked over the walkways.

It seemed Klaue's men had joined the fight.

As gunshots began to peal through the ship, Nadine was spinning to return fire herself, joining Hawkeye in picking off the mercenaries on the decks below, taking full advantage of her improved range of movement now that she'd abandoned her cover.

It didn't last long, though, as moments later a collection of Klaue's men were storming her perch.

Despite herself, Nadine nearly grinned.

Without missing a beat she was swinging from the railing to slam her boots into the nearest the thug's chest as he lunged toward her. In a blink she was ducking as the man behind managed to fire off a pair of rounds before spinning in a set of powerful kicks to first slam the gun from his grip then send him slamming into the nearest bulkhead.

She was a precise and efficient blur of motion, making full use of her combat training yet again for the second time in less than a week. Not one of them could touch her.

One by one, the men trying to subdue her fell to her quick-thinking and her strong, decisive fighting form—complete with acrobatics—unable to stand so much as a chance as she leapt and spun around them, virtually defenceless against her honed close-combat experience.

Distantly she kept an ear on the Avengers' comm chatter, keeping tabs on the rest of the team even as she propelled herself around one of the attacking thugs, using his own bodyweight against him as she launched herself around him to send one of his comrades head-first over the railing she'd been perched on when the fighting started.

"Thor! Status?" Nadine was only half paying attention as Captain called to the Asgardian. Not surprising, considering that right then she was in the middle of slipping between and over a pair of Klaue's men before hooking a leg around the one's knee. The move sent him tumbling into the other as she used him as a springboard to leap onto the second's shoulders, using her own momentum to send him lurching over his friend. It was Thor's reply that had her suddenly paying full attention to the voices in her ear.

"The girl tried to warp my mind," the Asgardian relayed, sounding relatively unconcerned as he passed along his warning, "Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty…" Nadine frowned in complete bewilderment as he trailed off. That sounded very odd. A feeling of dread started churning in her gut. Whatever it was certainly did not bode well.

But she couldn't linger on the thought as, at that moment, three more of Klaue's thugs were running toward her even as one of the ones at her feet began to recover. Gritting her teeth as she returned her full focus to the fight at hand, Nadine was slinging her rifle across her back before lunging forward, dropping down at the last second to send one of the oncoming men toppling over her back into the man trying to scramble back to his feet behind her.

With another spinning kick another thug was tumbling back the way he'd come, screeching as he nearly pitched down the stairs he'd just raced up. But Nadine had already moved on, launching herself onto the last man's shoulders, again using her momentum to off-balance him, swinging her legs around as he stumbled to aim a hard kick at the first man just as he regained his feet.

He fell to the grated walkway with a twitch, his body tangling the feet of the thug she was currently clinging to. With a frown of concentration, she swung her leg up to lever against the bulkhead the thug nearly slammed her into, the push sending him back toward the stairs. With a final swinging lunge, she managed to clamp her legs around the neck of the man she'd nearly tossed down the stairs and, with a sharp, twisting roll of her body, she had both men lurching off-balance, using their own weight against them to send them both staggering into each other as Nadine rolled free, landing in a deft crouch as they both hurtled toward the stairs, one collapsing down the rusted steps as the other was sent toppling over the railing.

With a crash and two matching screeches of panic, the two men were careening down to the level below. With a quick, final glance at the unconscious adversaries in her wake, Nadine was following. There was little point in remaining on the upper level at this point, anyway.

Besides…if the girl was after the Avengers, it meant she was on the same level as them…and since she'd heard Steve talking to the brother at one point, it meant he was down there too. And if they were on the lower levels, that was where she needed to be.

She reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to engage another trio of Klaue's men, just barely missing the shot one fired off as soon as he saw her coming toward them.

As she leapt around the second onto the third, grabbing at his neck to send him twisting into his companion, Barton's voice was the one all but yelling in her ear.

"Whoever's standing, we gotta move! Guys?" Distantly the worry Thor's comments inspired re-emerged, but she couldn't spare a moment to think on it, ducking to avoid the thick fist swinging toward her. With a snap motion she had latched on to the arm attached to it and was twisting, curling the limb around behind the mercenary and balancing on his back as she swung her leg around to kick the gun in his remaining companion's hand away with a sickening crunch. With a howl of pain, the thug lunged forward, right into Nadine's waiting range.

In an instant he was motionless on the ground and Nadine was rolling to her feet as the thug she'd been balanced on regained his equilibrium.

"C'mon, guys, report in; the Maximoff girl just tried to get me too—I got her first, though, so she shouldn't be coming after anyone else."

"Well, I'm still sane," Nadine responded, throwing a final spinning kick to put down the last of Klaue's thugs immediately on her radar. Satisfied, she unslung her rifle again and headed for the next set of stairs down to where she knew the rest of the team had been.

"Anyone else?" Barton's only answer was a string of muttered Russian curses from Nadine.

No sooner had she reached the top of the final set of stairs than she spotted Rogers several yards from the bottom, spread prone on the walkway with an almost vacant, distant look on his face. She took the steps two at a time, leaping down the last few, not pausing to examine the worry welling in her chest at the vulnerable state of the Captain.

"I take it that's a no," Barton commented dryly, though his unease was clearly evident as well. Another couple of curses fell from Nadine's lips as she slung her rifle across her back once more as she knelt next to the Captain. Taking his head in her hands she evaluated him quickly and efficiently, checking his pulse, his eyes, calling his name, even snapping her fingers before his face in an attempt to get some sort of response. He seemed perfectly alright—uninjured, at least, and still marginally responsive to her efforts, if sluggish—but it was as if…as if his mind wasn't there.

Fear prickled across Nadine's skin at the realization; she'd seen similar states before, during her training…when girls broke under torture…on another face…another soldier.

It was never good.

"That's a big no on the Captain," she confirmed as dispassionately as possible, though there was no hiding the faint waver to her voice. Luckily, it didn't seem to carry over the comm channel. Through her earpiece she heard Barton swear himself.

"I found Nat," he reported after a moment of indistinguishable murmurs, "she's a big no, too." And Nadine was swearing again, some English and German joining the Russian for good measure. It was either that or risk the worry and fear for her little sister thrumming in her chest taking over.

"And Thor?"

"Not looking good for him either," Barton answered, "I can see him from here. He looks a little better than Nat—a lot more mobile, at least—but I don't know where his head's at, so we should probably keep our distance for the moment. He wouldn't be a good one to spook." Nadine groaned.

This was not good.

"What about the Maximoffs?" Barton sighed heavily. It was answer enough. Nadine's chest clenched.

"I think they're long gone, Ryker. The brother cleared out his sister almost as soon as I hit her." Her entire body tensed, coiling like a wound spring, instantly ready to give chase…but next to her, the Captain groaned, his eyes blinking slowly in what looked startlingly like pain…and not the physical sort, either. It cut through her like a knife.

"Dammit!" She couldn't do it. She couldn't leave the team, not like this.

But that didn't stop the conflicting feelings from causing her bodily pain as her chest constricted yet again, feeling like it was crushing her lungs as a coil of distress tightened like an iron band.

Her hand rose to cradle her forehead as she looked down at Rogers, running through options on whether or not to try and move him…if he could even be moved…

She had a funny feeling that unless he started coming to, the only one who'd be able to help would be Thor.

And that wasn't exactly an option just now.

God, she hoped whatever the girl had done wasn't permanent…

And then she was fighting off _that_ fear too.

Dimly she heard Stark saying something about the Hulk, but it wasn't until he directed his comments toward the rest of the team that she really heard what he said.

"Natasha, I could really use a Lullaby." Nadine's stomach dropped further. She might not have been with the team long, but Natasha had told her all about how the redhead and Banner had worked out a system for helping to aim, control and, perhaps most importantly, calm the Hulk during those couple days of down-time after Sokovia. If Stark was asking for a Lullaby?

It meant Hulk was loose.

This was a disaster.

"Well, that's not gonna happen," Barton replied grimly.

"Not for a while, at least," Nadine interjected just as bitterly, leaning in over Rogers again, her hand cupping his jaw gently as she eased his face around so she could see it. His only reaction was to weakly fight against her touch…he was still so far away.

"The whole team is down, you got no back up here," Barton finished with no small measure of worry in his voice. The comm fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable as Stark ran through his own options.

"Hey Ryker, you have a kid—how are you with lullabies?" Regardless of how the comment was far more desperate than joking, if Stark had been nearby, Nadine would have fixed him with a disbelieving glare. A grimy patch of bulkhead just beyond Steve's shoulder served as an acceptable surrogate.

"Nice assumption, Buckethead," she bit back, her voice thick with sarcasm before turning serious, " but even if I knew the Lullaby, what makes you think Hulk would listen to me? It's Natasha he trusts." Through her earpiece she heard Stark groan, unable to help the wave of sympathy she suddenly felt toward the man.

She would not want to go up against the Hulk alone in a million years, fancy suits or not. After another long, heavy moment Stark spoke again.

"I'm calling in VERONICA," he stated gravely. Barton couldn't quite manage to withhold his own sigh of dismay.

"Good luck, Stark," he murmured, "You're gonna to need it."

Nadine couldn't help but agree.

In the meantime, she and Barton had to somehow figure out how to get the rest of the team back to the Quinjet.

But when it was all said and done?

She'd rather that than face the Hulk.

"Let's get moving," she said tiredly.

In a tone that matched hers perfectly, Barton agreed.


	35. Chapter 34

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

Had Thor not started coming around when he had, recovering quicker than Natasha and Rogers, Nadine wasn't sure how they would've managed to get the rest of the team safely ensconced back on the Quinjet. Natasha was one thing. The Captain? Well, his well-developed musculature might be handy in a fight and nice to look at, but as deadweight? She was strong, but not that strong. And Thor was bigger still. As it was, The Asgardian had still been in bad shape. But at least he was lucid again and had been capable of helping Nadine get Rogers out of the rusting ship.

Whatever it was the Maximoff girl had done to his head, it had shaken the Asgardian badly.

Thankfully, by the time Stark had returned with Banner safely in tow, the others were starting to rouse too. Though they were just as badly off as Thor, if not worse.

Even once she seemed to have her mind back, Natasha was virtually comatose, staring intently at nothing, as though trying desperately to will herself back under control. Steve, on the other hand, was just quiet, his usually open features guarded as he sunk deep into his own thoughts. But neither was able to hide the heartache and pain clearly written in their eyes as they revisited wherever their minds had been sent to.

While Nadine had no idea where Steve had been sent, with Natasha? It was safe to say she had a pretty good idea.

Before they'd reached Klaue's base of operations, Rogers had briefed them on Ultron and the Twin's movements thus far: hitting weapons labs, robotics labs, anything of the sort. There was no great stretch there to figure out why, Nadine had mused, not considering how he'd started making more friends once he'd made a new body for himself.

But it was the Captain's comments about the state of the people they'd left in their wake that gave her some idea what had happened to the rest of the team—fugue states.

Lost in their old memories…

…and worst fears.

Well, Nadine and Natasha both had a place in their pasts that fit the bill no matter which way you looked at it; bad memories, worst fears…and more.

It was not hard to figure out that Natasha's mind had been sent back to the Red Room.

It's where Nadine's would undoubtedly have gone.

Only, Nina would've been mixed in there too…

Nadine shuddered, feeling ill at the very idea of her sweet little girl even knowing about that place.

It was a conclusion that, judging by the considering looks Barton had sent her when they'd settled Natasha on the Quinjet, the archer shared. If anyone on the team had so much as a suspicion about the sorts of things that had gone on in that facility, it'd be Barton; he was easily Natasha's best friend, even a big brother figure to the redhead. While Nadine very much doubted he'd been told even a fraction of what Natasha had experienced in that place, she'd likely told him at least something.

And he'd likely inferred more.

Clint Barton was no idiot.

Sparing first Steve then Doctor Banner a final glance in concern, she settled herself next to Natasha. Finally turning to her little sister, she reached out to touch the redhead's shoulder, about to ask how she was holding up.

Only for Natasha to flinch away, refusing to so much look at the blonde. Withholding a sad sigh, Nadine merely leaned back into her seat, watching her little sister out of the corner of her eye. Dealing with Nina through her early teens and even Natasha in those last couple years in the Red Room had long ago taught her that such defensive reactions were best combated with patience—teen and adult alike.

At least she hadn't gone so far as to shift seats…

Sure enough, as long minutes passed, Natasha's deeply ingrained, protective wall against her own emotions began to crumble, her exhaustion and her reopened emotional wounds from so many years before wearing at her resolve until she was eventually leaning her head tiredly against Nadine's shoulder, curling into her sister's side as she had when they were children.

Without hesitation Nadine was wrapping her arm around her little sister, absently rubbing her back as Natasha began to tremble, determinedly keeping herself from crying.

Not that she wholly succeeded.

But Nadine was content to pretend she wasn't aware of the moisture dripping to her neck behind Natasha's short curtain of hair. Natasha needed her to pretend as much. So she would.

Quickly enough Natasha calmed, regaining control of herself with the ease of long practice. But she made no move to pull away from Nadine's embrace.

And Nadine was just fine with that.

The contact was comforting for her too.

Even when the console up near the cockpit pinged, signalling an incoming communication, though she tensed briefly in response, even lifting her head to track Tony as he made his way to the console, she didn't pull away.

But then, as Hill relayed the fallout beyond the confines of the Quinjet from the Avengers' failed mission outside Johannesburg, the already low mood in the jet fell lower still and Natasha wilted further against Nadine.

It was bad.

Even Tony had nothing light to say as Hill's clinical relay of the situation ended with a heavy sigh.

"The news is loving you guys." Hill finally continued, her voice grim, "Nobody else is. There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air." Nadine glanced over Natasha's head to Bruce where he only huddled tighter in on himself, as though Hill's words were physical entities, bludgeoning him until he nearly disappeared behind the bank of seats shielding the scientist from the rest of the team.

Nadine's heart ached for the mild-mannered doctor. What happened was the last thing he'd ever wanted; she didn't need to know him well to know that. He was so careful about the Hulk, planning contingencies like the Lullaby and VERONICA in the event that the Other Guy ever got loose.

But circumstances had conspired today to make all those plans fall to pieces. Even VERONICA hadn't been enough to quickly stop the Hulk thanks to the influence of the Maximoff girl's mind games.

In that moment, Nadine could've gladly killed the girl for what she'd done to her team.

She'd torn them apart.

"MSRF?" Stark asked quietly, sounding far more reserved than Nadine had ever heard him.

"Already on the scene. Meg had them rolling out almost the instant we got notification that you'd activated VERONICA. She's even thinking of heading down herself. She's also pulling every string she's got to try and help Banner on this. She's even working on getting Pepper on board, though I don't think that'll be too hard." Hill paused, leaving the Quinjet silent until she resumed, her voice fractionally more gentle. "They're both worried about you. About all of you. How's the team?"

"Everyone's…" Nadine looked up to the billionaire as Stark hesitated. How to describe it? "We took a hit. We'll shake it off."

As he said those words, she couldn't help the newfound measure of respect forming for the billionaire. Irreverent and irresponsible as he projected himself to be, he wasn't afraid to step up.

And the faith he had in his team was staggering.

After what they'd just been through? The state they were _still_ in? He had complete faith that they'd pull through it. That was a brand of loyalty that deserved respect.

"Well, for now I'd stay in stealth mode, and stay away from here."

"So, run and hide?" Nadine could see Stark tense at Hill's recommendation to hide. Nadine imagined that didn't sit well with his pride at all. Across from him, just over Nadine's shoulder, Steve's reaction was decidedly similar, though admittedly resigned. The soldier in him saw the wisdom of a tactical retreat, she imagined.

Nadine, however, saw nothing wrong with the idea. The only reason she'd stayed alive for as long as she had was because she wasn't afraid to run and hide. No. In this situation, when they _all_ needed the respite, running and hiding was the right course of action. Hands down.

"Until we can find Ultron, I don't have a lot else to offer," Hill said plainly. Stark sighed heavily, a reaction Nadine could intimately relate to even as Natasha seemed to slump further against her, defeat written in every breath at Stark's soft response.

"Neither do we."

With that, he switched off the console, standing in a way that made it seem like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And in a way, Nadine reflected, he really did. But oddly enough, all she felt in that moment for the billionaire was sympathy.

There was no doubt this was very much _not_ what Stark had envisioned when he started working on his Ultron program.

But how did that saying go about good intentions go? The road to Hell and all that?

As she continued to absently rub her sister's arm soothingly, she watched as Stark slipped up to the cockpit, offering to swap out with Barton, she suspected. But she couldn't quite hear the murmured conversation over the low hum of the Quinjet's engines.

Whatever he had asked, Stark got his answer and, with a small nod, was returning to the main cabin, lightly clapping Steve on the shoulder as he passed and sparing Nadine a wan, tired smile.

"ETA's still a few hours," he said quietly. Nadine simply nodded her understanding. Despite her newfound sympathy for the man, Nadine was just as happy when he continued past where she sat with Natasha, not at all interested in a conversation with him at the moment.

What could she possibly say? What could he say beyond the apologies he'd already tried giving? Not that he was even entirely ready to give them just yet, she suspected. He still had a lot to come to terms with before he got to that point.

If he ever truly got to that point…apologies usually came with an implicit hope of forgiveness, whether it was actually asked for or not. Whether it was expected or not.

And she had the distinct feeling that this whole situation was something Stark might never forgive himself for. He likely believed that, no matter what he did, even if he alone were to defeat Ultron, he'd never be able to make up for the damage he caused when he unleashed Ultron on the world.

Oh, he'd try. She could read that in every line of his body, in every expression that crossed his face. But he didn't believe he'd ever do enough to earn it. She could read that just as easily.

She recognized it in him just as she recognized it in herself. Like him, she'd done things that she knew she'd never deserve forgiveness for…

In that, she and the billionaire were kindred.

Withholding a heavy sigh of her own, Nadine shifted, careful not to dislodge Natasha too much as she settled in further. With a few hours to go, she might as well get as comfortable as she could.

Her hand rising to stroke her little sister's fox-red hair, she barely even realized when she started humming quietly, much as she used to when lulling her daughter to sleep as she had since Nina was a baby.

Slowly but surely the tension in her little sister's body began to ease, and before long Natasha was drowsing against Nadine, her physical and emotional exhaustion from being forced to relive the horrors of their training having more than taken its toll.

"How do you balance it?" Nadine looked up at the soft-spoken question. Steve was already glancing away as she did, but the glimpse she got was more than enough. Her chest clenched at the pain and _longing_ written in his veiled eyes. "How do you balance being…what you are, doing what you do, with having a…a life?" Traitorously her eyes tried to prickle at how utterly lost and disheartened he sounded. But she wasn't going to lie.

"Because I had no other choice," she answered back just as softly, a faint, humourless smile curling her lips. "Not that I've done such a great job at it anyway. My past? Who I am? It brought my attempt at having a life crumbling down around me anyway." He didn't say anything in response. Not that she really expected him to. This time she did sigh.

"You should get some rest," she urged gently. He just sighed resignedly at first.

"I can't," he countered, "not with…" He didn't finish the thought aloud, but the way he nodded absently around to the rest of the Team made his reasoning clear. Nadine understood: not with his team so poorly off. The ghost of a smile played about her lips. She couldn't help but admire the sentiment.

"It's okay," she said, her quiet voice just as low and soothing as it had been with Banner when Stark had gotten the doctor back to the Quinjet. He glanced tiredly back up at her. "Barton and I've got watch," she added with a faint smile. "It's okay to sleep." He met her eye, his expression questioning but again all but unreadable. Though, there was a flicker there in his eyes that she read as a mix of relief and gratitude. "You can get some rest, Captain," she repeated, her voice firm but still gentle. A smile of his own tugged at his lips.

She'd half-expected him to object again, but instead he merely nodded slowly even as his arms crossed tightly around his body, his chin eventually dipping toward his broad chest.

But he didn't drowse the way Natasha did. Instead he just seemed to retreat back into his head again, closing himself off just as effectively as if he'd barricaded himself behind a physical wall.

Better, even.

Not that she could blame him. People like them? Like her and Natasha? Like Barton? Even Stark and Banner? They all had their own walls. They needed them to survive. It was so hard allowing others in—dangerous, even—allowing even those they trusted most to see them at their most vulnerable. To see their wounds.

Perhaps because, despite all of their incredible abilities, their strengths and their appearances to the contrary, they were all far more damaged and vulnerable than most 'normal' people, just as they were more powerful, no matter how they appeared on the surface.

But eventually the Captain too nodded off whether he wanted to or not.

Besides her and Barton, only Thor didn't succumb to the heavy, limbo-like atmosphere in the Quinjet or to the exhaustion she saw tightening the skin around his eyes and the corners of his mouth—though that could just have easily be unease as fatigue, Nadine ceded. She didn't know him well enough to conclusively make that call.

Whether he was as exhausted as the rest but unwilling or unable to settle, or whether he was simply too uneasy and unsettled to sit, the Asgardian spent the majority of the remaining flight slowly pacing the back quarter of the Quinjet, visibly agitated in a way that nearly made her nervous.

Nadine, meanwhile, wasn't sure she'd have been able to sleep even if she'd wanted to. Her mind was far too full.

And yet, her thoughts were almost wholly without focus…drifting from emotion to nebulous emotion rather than from thought to coherent thought. It was the sheer quantity of different and conflicting feelings that were crowding out any possibility of focusing on any one thought.

There was worry for Nina; that one didn't lessen, remaining front and centre in her thoughts. That worry would never go away. But there was also worry for Natasha and for the rest of the Avengers. Worry over the effects of what the Maximoff girl had done to them, on how they could even hope to fight back against such an attack next time. Unease over where they were supposed to go from here. Unease over what Ultron could possibly be planning. Anxiety over what he intended to do next.

Fear for her daughter's safety in the company of Ultron and the Twins; the Robot knew now that Nadine was working with the Avengers…would he take it out on her daughter? Fear that Ultron had some sort of plan for Nina, if he even had her at all.

But there was also contentment of a sort threading through the negativity trying to overwhelm her…and of course a corresponding conflict and shame that she felt as much despite everything else going on.

Despite the danger her daughter was in. Her gut twisted painfully with guilt at that thought.

Nadine had her little sister back—something Nadine had never even dared to dream could happen—and considering how Natasha had leaned against her, seeking comfort in her most vulnerable moment?

But also contentment mixed with an odd feeling of belonging.

Since running from the Red Room and the only family she'd known, Nadine had always felt so…alone. Even with Nina, there was still a part of her that felt apart; perhaps because Nina knew so little of the truth about Nadine's life…in so many ways, Nina didn't know her own mother at all. That realization brought out a welling of grief and guilt all its own.

But here? Among others like her? People who knew what she was and, to some extent, where she'd come from, what made her what she was? Those who were similarly…apart from so-called 'normal' people? People like her sister, like Rogers, even Stark?

She felt unaccountably comfortable around the Avengers. She wouldn't go so far as to extend that feeling all the way to _trust_ , but it was slowly beginning to build the fragile foundations for it. She didn't quite feel the need to guard herself—her emotions, her behaviour, her reactions—around them. At least, not to the extent she normally felt continuously compelled to guard herself, even when around Nina.

That added a sense of bewilderment to the mix.

And, of course, underlying it all, lingering like a shadow in the back of her mind, was the ever present, ever constant simmer of guilt and self-loathing for what she'd done all those years before…

She let herself get so lost in the emotional disarray of her thoughts that, before she knew it, Barton was calling out that they were on their final approach.

It was only then that Nadine really began to grow curious about where it was precisely that the archer had taken them.

Somewhere he believed they'd be safe. And much to her surprise, she actually trusted him on that.

Within moments the tenor of the Quinjet's engines had shifted, the sound enough to stir Natasha from where she still leaned against Nadine. As Natasha straightened, still looking painfully disoriented and exhausted, Nadine was rising to her feet. The Quinjet shuddered slightly as it touched down at their destination while Nadine took stock of the rest of the team as they roused. Steve was already standing himself, habitually swinging his shield onto its place on his back as she glanced over to him, while Thor waited patiently yet distractedly for the door to open.

Stark was crouching next to Banner, a loose sweater in hand meant for the doctor as as he gently tried to rouse him from his fitful doze. Unable to help herself, Nadine knelt on Banner's other side.

She bit back a sad sigh when Banner flinched at the gentle hand she laid on his shoulder, but she didn't relent, joining Stark in urging him to up and dress as best she could. Thankfully, it was exhaustion rather than stubbornness or his lingering guilt they were confronting.

That would come later.

Of all of them, Banner was easily the worst off. He wasn't just coming off the Maximoff girl's manipulation, after all, but an unexpected transformation as well. One or the other would've been bad enough.

Both?

It was little wonder he looked like Hell…and that was being kind.

By the time she and Stark had managed to coax the still sore Banner to his feet, Barton had exited the Quinjet supporting Natasha while Thor and Steve followed behind.

Mild-mannered and drained as he was, though, Bruce still had his pride, almost apologetically shrugging her and Stark off as soon as he was on his feet before he followed the rest of the team off the Quinjet. Finding the gesture rather heartening, Nadine didn't hesitate to follow the two scientists, though she still resolved to keep a close eye on Banner regardless.

As she stepped off the boarding ramp, Nadine caught her first glimpse of their destination. And it was not at all what she'd expected.

It was lovely and, well, soothing in its normalcy.

The morning light was soft on the large white farmhouse directly ahead of them, the last wisps of early morning mist over the dew-glittering fields surrounding it quickly burning away as the sun gained strength. An old, low-slung barn stood off to the side, hemming in the yard behind the house, completing the rather quaint, picturesque sight.

Nadine shot a searching glance up past Thor and Stark to Barton where he led the way with Natasha leaning heavily against him. This place didn't have the look of a Safe House at all.

It had the look of a home.

Where had he brought them?

An odd, warm suspicion began to grow in the back of her mind when she caught sight of a child's bike peeking out from the far side of the front porch and a small scattering of brightly coloured toys hiding among the tall grass next to a huge, flat stump near the fence as the team stoically climbed the lovingly tended porch steps.

And there was no mistaking the way the tension in the archer's shoulders eased the instant he let himself in through the side door.

He'd brought them home.


	36. Chapter 35

**Barton Home, USA**

**Spring 2015**

They were a mess. They were  _all_  a mess.

The only one who could almost be said to be fine was Barton, and even he'd been affected.

Sure, it was born out of concern for the rest of his teammates and out of sympathy for what they had gone through, but it had still shaken the archer. Having to see them all effectively torn apart? It'd be hard for the man not to be affected seeing them all like that.

Especially since he'd gone through something similar prior to New York at Loki's hands. It had to be bringing back some memories.

So yes. Barton was shaken too.

Even if it wasn't so monumentally so as the rest of them this time.

Well, not just Barton.

Nadine was mostly fine too.

Steve had to admit she'd seemed shaken as well. But, like Clint, it seemed borne out of worry for the rest of them rather than from coming into contact with Wanda Maximoff; affected second-hand, so to speak.

And, of course, by the constant fear for her daughter.

That had certainly not gone away or even lessened, if he was any judge.

If anything, it had gotten worse. Probably because Ultron now knew she was working with them. That had to be weighing on the blonde assassin.

God, it was weighing on him.

Part of him still couldn't believe she'd stayed. Nadine—the one who had slipped away the instant no one was watching on one occasion and had attempted it on others—had stayed to help Barton and Stark look out for the rest of the team.

Despite—as she kept reminding them—the fact that she wasn't actually an Avenger.

At first he suspected she had stayed solely for Nat's sake. After all, each was the other's self-professed sister and the closest thing to family they both had. There was no doubting that fact. Not since Nadine had come to Natasha for help.

Not since she'd spared Natasha's life in Prague regardless of the personal risk she took in doing so. With the skill the blonde had with that rifle of hers? There was no way she'd missed by accident.

But Steve couldn't help the feeling that it had since become more than just concern for Nat.

Nadine had helped  _all_ of them after Johannesburg.

The first really conscious thought he'd had as he'd emerged from the Maximoff girl's visions was of Nadine helping to guide him into the Quinjet. It was just a flash, but it was there; her gentle hand braced against his torso as she slipped from beneath his arm while Thor helped lower his sluggish body into the waiting seat, her voice low and soothing as it eased through his disorientated thoughts.

Then later she'd been checking on him, asking questions to gauge his lucidity and whether or not his mind was returning with his awareness, her touch comforting on his shoulder as she knelt next to him. And when he'd proven that he was again in control of his own mind, she'd updated him fully on the situation without censure—both on what happened to them, and what had happened to Banner—without him even needing to ask, somehow knowing that he'd needed to know. It was something he appreciated more than he could say.

He'd also seen her checking in with a rather agitated Thor, laying a similarly comforting hand on the Asgardian's arm as they waited for Tony to return with Bruce.

And it had been Nadine to jump up when the bruised billionaire and the battered scientist had returned, taking over settling Bruce in as Tony stepped out of his suit, taking a few moments to catch his breath and regain his composure as he did, once again disappearing behind his 'Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist' persona. Fighting the Hulk, it seemed, had taken far more than a physical toll on the billionaire than Tony wanted to let on.

But then, Steve was intimately aware of the toll fighting one's best friend took…even when you knew rationally that the one you were fighting wasn't really your friend even if they wore their face…but also knowing that your friend was still trapped somewhere deep inside…

Or maybe Steve was just projecting.

Whether or not he was overestimating how Tony had taken his fight against Hulk, despite appearances to the contrary, Steve suspected the billionaire was just about as poorly off emotionally as the rest of them…save Bruce, of course.

The scientist was a wreck. By the time Stark had gotten him back the doctor had been nearly insensible with exhaustion, his skin greyed and coated in a sickly sheen. He'd been shaking so badly Steve had briefly feared he'd been seizing.

But Nadine had taken it in stride, gently guiding the doctor to the ground next to the central bank of seats even as Tony was passing on to Barton that they were good to go.

If Steve had ever doubted Nadine's claim that she was a mom, the way she handled Bruce would have been more than enough to dispel any such notion. There was a decidedly maternal air to the gentle yet firm way the blonde assassin handled the scientist. And the soothing, calm way she spoke? The way she made sure he drank the fluids Stark passed to her or the way she absently ensured the shock blanket was securely wrapped around him? Even the way she'd been careful to make sure he was steady against the bulkhead he'd been leaning against. It was more than just a keen bedside manner. It spoke to the kind of experience being a parent brought.

It hadn't been until she'd been satisfied Bruce was settled as he could be that she'd let him be, seeming to know he needed the space to be alone with his thoughts.

Similarly, there was definitely no doubt in his mind anymore that the Nadine and Natasha shared an incredibly close bond even after so many years apart. There really was no other way to term their relationship but as one shared by sisters. In the time he'd known her, Steve had never seen Natasha so comfortable with anyone, not even Barton, as she was with Nadine. And the way the blonde had just known the redhead needed her on the Quinjet like that? His compromised state nonwithstanding, Steve hadn't even been able to tell Natasha had been that close to falling apart, and he'd learned to read her better than just about anyone…save Barton, of course.

Steve never had a sister. Or siblings in general. Though really, Bucky had been a brother in all but name, he supposed. They'd been as close as Nadine and Natasha, once.

In that moment on the Quinjet, thinking of Bucky and watching how Nadine had supported Natasha when she needed it most, Steve had felt more alone than he had in a long time.

But it seemed he was rather destined for that, wasn't he…

That was the core of what the visions had shown him, after all, in showing him what he'd missed out on…

But that didn't stop part of him from longing for it anyway…for someone, something beyond the fight…someone to go home with after the fighting was done…

That was what was at the crux of it all.

Especially here, in this place, when confronted with Barton's wonderfully normal, happy family.

Not only was he left feeling particularly alone…but man, did he feel out of place.

What was it Ultron had said? He was 'pretending he could live without a war.' Even though it left an aching hole in his chest the size of a Helicarrier, he couldn't exactly deny it, either; there was some truth to the statement.

Steve was a soldier.

Without the fight, he had nothing. Not anymore.

More than that, he wasn't entirely sure he  _wanted_  to do anything else anymore.

He lived to defend, to fight to defend. To stand up when no one else would to do what was right. To protect as many as he could.

Was that wrong?

Was that why he was so painfully alone?

He'd known rationally that he was alone now in a way few could understand the minute he'd realized he'd woken up in a completely different century. Everything he'd known, everyone he'd known, had been gone. Yes, he'd found Peggy again, but she wasn't the Peggy he'd left behind. She'd lived an entire life while he'd been stuck in the ice.

And he'd been left behind.

So seeing Peggy in his vision like that? Young and vibrant again and waiting for their dance? Even knowing it was only in his mind? It hurt. A lot. Almost as much as the crushing loneliness the vision had left burrowed deep in his chest.

But what he really couldn't bear to dwell on was  _why_  seeing her again like that hurt the way it did.

When he looked at her, he still loved her. Especially when looking at the Peggy he remembered so vividly. But that wasn't quite it.

What hurt was to realize he wasn't  _in_  love with her any more.

It cut deep. And it hurt like Hell.

It was yet another tenuous tie to who he used to be and what he'd left behind that had been irrevocably cut. And he hadn't even realized it had happened. Not until the visions had confronted him with the realization.

He didn't know if that made it better or worse…

But he would deal with it. He would come to terms with it. He didn't have a choice. He couldn't let himself dwell on it. It just wasn't in his nature. If he wasn't destined to have a home or a family the way he'd once dreamed, well, it was what it was. He would just have to move on. He'd find purpose in what he had, what he knew. He'd learn to live with the loneliness. He didn't quite know how just now, not with his emotions still swirling in a chaotic jumble, but he would persevere and figure it out. That's what those in his generation did, and he wasn't about to do any different even if he was a man out of time…a man still learning to live in the century he'd been dropped into.

But right now, what he did know was that Stark was well on his way to getting on his last nerve.

As cathartic as chopping wood for the Bartons was proving, the effect was being somewhat dulled the more Tony spoke. He'd learned to keep Tony from getting under his skin…normally. Normally, Steve was perfectly capable of brushing off the billionaire's irreverent attitude, knowing full well that the billionaire was not always the most tactful, but usually meant well.

But right now? Steve was still far too unsettled. Far too on edge. The things Tony was saying were just getting to him today, wearing on his frayed patience and making him short with the other man.

"Seems like you walked away alright," the billionaire said with a casual but pointed tone in response to Steve's observation that the Maximoff girl had torn them apart so easily. Steve inhaled deeply, reining in his reaction as he straightened from setting up another log to look at Tony. On some level he supposed it was true. Yes, he'd managed to pull himself back together quicker than the others. He wasn't about to deny that. Natasha was still off…Thor obviously still hadn't returned. Banner? No question. But that didn't mean he wasn't still privately reeling. He just wasn't letting himself show it. What would the point be?

"Is that a problem?" Steve questioned, unable to help but feel defensive—Tony had no idea what he'd seen in his visions, so who was he to judge. Just because he didn't show it as much as Banner or Nat, didn't mean his dream hadn't torn him up inside. Perhaps he was just better able to push past it. To work around it. To let his sense of duty and purpose overshadow his personal feelings.

His sense of purpose was all he had left, after all…

Maybe what he had seen actually hadn't been as bad as what the others had seen. Or maybe it was just a different kind of pain he was battling past, one that he could still function with even as it lingered like a quiet shadow in the back of his mind instead of consuming him completely for a short time. He didn't know. Either possibility was entirely plausible considering some of the bleak, dark secrets he knew and suspected some of his teammates hid. Part of him had been surprised his own hadn't been worse...especially considering some of the nasty stuff he'd seen during the War. But then…his was something that would stay with him, eat at him…had already been eating at him.

Perhaps the Maximoff girl had known that making him face his deepest, most selfish regrets would be far worse for him than making him relive even his more violent, darker memories…

Well, she wasn't wrong.

There was a reason his subconscious had buried those regrets away, after all.

He didn't know what nightmares and horrors the others had been shown. But to have Tony seemingly doubt that he'd been affected? For him, it had been plenty bad enough, and whether the billionaire could see it or not, Steve was still struggling with what he'd seen. He would every time everyone else went home.

He just hid it better, he supposed.

"I don't trust a guy without a dark side. Call me old-fashioned." Steve's jaw clenched as Tony split another log.

"Well let's just say you haven't seen it yet," Steve couldn't help but challenge. Tony set down his axe, eying the Captain thoughtfully as he stepped around the wide log he'd been splitting the others on.

"You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?" Steve's temper was quickly wearing thin, which was nearly a novelty in and of itself. He usually prided himself on his patience. It was short enough that he had little desire to keep his bitter thoughts to himself. The axe handle creaked in his hands.

"Well I guess you'd know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question." The log in front of him split with an angry crack. Just as he knew it would, he knew he'd hit the mark when Tony tensed, his voice growing just as defensive and threaded with anger as Steve's was. Steve planted his axe in the log he was using for splitting as he reached for another piece of wood.

"Banner and I were doing research."

"That would affect the team."

"That would end the team. Isn't that the mission?" Steve bristled at Tony's declaration, his jaw clenching angrily as he grabbed up another log; all the more reason why Stark should have  _talked_  to the rest of the team. "Isn't that the "why" we fight, so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?"

The log in Steve's hands ripped clean in two with a crack as his temper snapped. Though he didn't realize it, Tony had hit too close to the mark; the hypersensitive mark Steve had been fighting to bury away.

He had no home to go to.

But that was beside the point, even if right now it was the loudest point racing through his thoughts. He turned back to Tony, forcing his temper back under some semblance of control, forcing himself to focus on the second loudest thought running angrily through his mind in response to Stark's comment.

"Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time." Stark had nothing to say to that. Argumentative as he often was, he knew Steve was right. But there was a cast to the billionaire's expression that said he suspected there was more to Steve's reaction than the Captain was trying to let on.

Mercifully, it was that moment that Laura Barton chose to approach, asking for Tony's help in getting their tractor running.

Steve said nothing as the billionaire walked away.

He had nothing more to say to him right then.

Not that he could have even if he'd wanted to. Right then his chest was clenched far too tight as he struggled to tamp his emotions back under control…again.

What was it about that man? As close as friend as Steve had begun to consider him, Tony certainly had a talent for getting under his skin. It was moments like this when he missed how Howard never needled him like his son managed to.

Only to sigh as the familiar, aching wave of nostalgia threatened to distract him again. He grabbed up another log.

It too split with a satisfying crack. As did the log that followed. One after the other, he continued to work his way through the pile, forcing himself to ignore the happy sounds of Barton and his son working on the porch a couple dozen yards away.

Steve has been stunned to realize the archer had a family. Though really, in hindsight, he also supposed he shouldn't have been. Now that he knew about Laura and the kids, it just sort of made sense knowing Barton as he did. Not that he knew Clint as well as he'd thought, apparently.

But as disappointed as he was that Barton hadn't trusted him with his secret—or anyone else, save Natasha—he also understood why.

It had all been to protect them. And Steve couldn't fault him for that.

Really, Nadine's situation had made Barton's reasons for keeping his family a secret that much clearer. The secret of her daughter's existence had been leaked and because of who her mom was, Nina had been taken.

And they still hadn't gotten her back like they'd promised.

Steve sighed heavily. He didn't have enough wood left to muddle through that mire of guilt. Not when it was also partially their fault that Nina had been left defenceless.

Simply put, it was a mess.

Another log split beneath his swing with a dull crack.


	37. Chapter 36

**Barton Home, USA**

**Spring 2015**

"You know, you strip that gun any more and you're going to polish it clean away." Nadine nearly started as Steve's voice broke through the absent musing she'd sunk into as her hands disassembled, cleaned and reassembled her Glock.

Off to the side lay all of the guns she'd been able to find, each freshly and expertly tended. She'd managed to track down Barton's personal collection, the firearms he had for his professional life—all with his permission, naturally—and had even gathered most of the (limited) arsenal from the Quinjet, though out of respect she'd left Natasha's regular sidearms alone. But once she'd finished with the Avenger's guns, she returned her attention to her own…repeatedly.

Normally the familiar task was comforting. Today?

Not so much.

Eyes snapping back to focus, having been staring blankly off into the distance, she looked to Steve. There was still a troubled shadow behind his eyes from whatever the Maximoff girl had done to him, but a tired sort of amusement had brightened his features as he watched her curiously. Replacing the last few components, she snapped the slide, priming the chamber—not that there were any bullets in it to load—before laying the gun down.

"It's a calming habit; familiar," she explained quietly, a wan grin meeting his. A faint, thoughtful frown appeared on his face at her tone.

"Just like Natasha." Her grin turned unintentionally brittle.

"Well, I was trained just like Natasha." They both fell into silence. Nadine's gaze turned back to the window, looking sightlessly out over the field surrounding the farmhouse even as her fingers trailed distractedly over the handguns on the counter. After the overwhelming mess of emotions she'd endured on the Quinjet, right now her mind was almost disconcertingly blank. It was a nice change, but also unsettling.

Steve's own eyes followed hers to look out into the waning afternoon, but they were soon sliding back to her. Not a trace of what she was thinking showed on her carefully cool expression, though flickers of emotion glinted too quickly to decipher in her pale eyes before being efficiently tamped down. "What has Natasha told you of her training," she finally asked softly. Steve's frown deepened before he answered.

"Not much. She's never really opened up about her past as so long as I've known her. Not even with Clint, though I suspect he knows more than the rest of us. I didn't even know what the facility was called, not until you showed up." Nadine nodded absently, the disquiet in her expression that had emerged with her question deepening.

Almost unconsciously she picked up one of the guns again, her eyes sliding shut. With a speed and efficiency that spoke of familiarity and experience only endless hours of repetition could impress, she had it apart and reassembled and ready to fire far quicker than she suspected he'd seen anyone—save perhaps Natasha—strip, check and ready a gun. As she set it back on the counter with a nearly gentle measure of control, she glanced up at him again, her eyes growing veiled as she looked away, gesturing weakly to the handgun.

"By the time I was nine, I could disassemble and reassemble over thirty different firearms blindfolded, not counting launchers. Even now, it comes…well, not easier, but it's almost more grounding when my eyes are closed. It was expected—but it's—it's…" She trailed off, her fingers trailing over the guns again, a faint twitch in her index and middle fingers revealing that she was feeling the urge to pick one up again.

She turned back to him, fixing Steve with an intent, almost pained look that had him looking faintly uneasy. "Had the Maximoff girl gotten into my head, it's a good bet that I would have been back there again, just like Natasha." She nodded bitterly at Steve's startled expression, answering before he even opened his mouth to voice the question that was quickly written on his furrowing brow, "and no, she didn't tell me what she was shown. I don't know exactly what she was forced to remember; there was…there were a lot of horrible things that happened in that place. Just singling out one would be hard. But I know her, even after all these years…and I know me. That sort of place? The sort of life we had there? It haunts a person.

"It'll never leave us."

Steve glanced down to the guns sitting on the counter as he processed what she'd said. Absently she wondered if she should've revealed even the little she had about her and Natasha's time in the Red Room. Obviously Natasha had made a point of keeping it to herself if her own teammates hadn't even known the name of the facility.

But now? Well, thanks to her appearance alone, they knew more now simply from meeting her. More would come out eventually. At least having told the Captain what little she had, she had warned him at least a little of the darkness to expect lingering in Natasha's past.

Darkness that the Maximoff girl's manipulations had brought to the surface from wherever she'd tried to hide it away.

She looked over to Steve. He didn't have that sort of darkness hiding in him. Oh, there was some. He was a soldier, after all—from the Second World War at that—and soldiers always carried darkness back with them when they returned from the fight…if they ever truly returned. War had a habit of doing that.

But the way he had been affected by the Maximoff girl's visions? It had taken some time and study to decipher him—despite being as open with his emotions as he often seemed, he hid it well, that was for sure; probably a result of the era he'd been born and raised in and the life he'd led—but having seen the way he and Stark had been interacting outside? Whatever they'd been talking about, the Captain's posture and guarded expressions had made it clear to her that whatever he had been confronted with in the scrapyard was still very close to the surface. And he had definitely been affected, even if he hadn't been quite so hard hit as Banner or her sister. He seemed haunted like they were, but her instincts said he was…well, sad. Resigned. She didn't have a way to say it that could really do what she was seeing justice. There was a deep heartache lingering behind his guarded expression that just didn't quite fit with the flashbacks to fights or war or death she had initially suspected he'd been shown.

Neither was it something new. That she was sure of. Whatever he'd been shown had been haunting him for a long time. It was something he was usually able to keep in check, hidden away just as she and Natasha kept their own past horrors at bay.

The Sokovian girl had brought forward something he'd already been fighting, making it stronger. It was keeping him off his game, but not in the same way Banner or Nat's nightmares were for them.

"What did you see," she finally asked softly, her voice careful and even gentle. Steve stared out the window, his gaze impossibly distant like hers had been. After a moment he tried to smile as he turned back to her, realizing he hadn't answered her, though the expression was sad, nearly a grimace.

"Everything I missed…and everything I can't have."

She had nothing to say to that. The questions on the Quinjet suddenly made perfect sense. With a sad sigh she turned back to the guns in front of her, absently beginning to gather them up. She wasn't going to get any more comfort from the routine anymore today.

"I'm sorry," she offered softly. He nodded once in silent thanks, but she could tell from his shadowed expression that her sympathy had really provided very little comfort. After a moment, he began to help her tidy up her makeshift workstation.

"I'm sorry for my questions on the Quinjet." The apology took her completely by surprise. She glanced up to him with a faint, questioning frown, nearly causing him to hesitate. "It was insensitive, especially considering how—"

"How I stayed? How I helped?" she interrupted shrewdly, her face carefully not betraying a thing even if she still felt…conflicted. She shot him a small, almost sad smile. Yes. She could see how that would seem unlike her given his experience with her so far, limited as it might be. It was true. It was strange that she'd stuck around the way she had. Certainly not with Nina still out there somewhere in Ultron's possession. And that wasn't even the only reason.

By trade and training she was a spy and an assassin. She worked alone. And she'd had no qualms of reminding the team of that.

So sticking with them would undoubtedly seem odd to the Captain.

"I won't deny that I thought about leaving, of slipping away—they were so close—" the exclamation burst out impatiently, voice full of frustration even as her hands tensed, knuckles going white as they clenched around one of Barton's rifles. But then she sighed, glancing up to Steve with a tired, wan smile. The topic of the Twins and Nina was understandably touchy for her.

But she still couldn't bring herself to feel she'd made the wrong decision in staying with the team.

"I can't say I would've blamed you." Her grey eyes flashed up to him with astonishment. Steve could only shrug before continuing. "Not that I'm ungrateful," he amended with an apologetic grin, "but it was a chance to catch up with the Maximoffs. And you were right before when you said this wasn't your fight. I never should have pressured you into joining it and I am sorry for that." He hesitated again, fascinated by how openly startled she seemed with his confession and apology. "But…thank you. For sticking around. I'm not sure how we would have managed without you." She dropped her gaze back down to the collection of firearms, fingers absently tracing over the contours of the nearest one. Something in her chest had eased at his words. But that wasn't why she did it; she couldn't just have left them. There was more to it now. They meant something to her now.

And that wasn't even counting the Ultron aspect.

"No. You were right back at the Tower…well, you're right now too. It wasn't my fight…but…now it is. And not just because Ultron has Nina," Nadine finally said, her voice low and almost resigned. Steve leaned against the counter, watching her avidly as she deliberated over how to say what she needed to. "You were right when you said Ultron was too big a threat for me to ignore." Steve frowned.

"I said that?" She glanced up to him again with a faintly amused look.

"Subtext." He couldn't help it; a laugh huffed out of his chest at the almost teasing glint in her eyes. But she sobered again quickly enough, sighing heavily as she did.

"But it was more than that…back there. In the Salvage Yard, I mean. I couldn't just—I couldn't just leave you all like that; exposed, vulnerable." Shadows seemed to appear behind her eyes as she smiled in a bitter, depreciating way that had Steve frowning. "I do, after all, have a bit of a conscience." She couldn't help the way her chest clenched at the way it came out. There were times she wondered how true that was…but did it really need to show in her voice?

She nearly jumped when his hand brushed against her arm.

And there it was again, the feeling that something hard and sharp in her chest was easing.

"If it makes a difference, I never believed you didn't have a conscience," he said softly, sounding utterly sincere. She refused to look at him, though her eyes were suddenly prickling traitorously, very nearly flicking to him. "Just different priorities," he added lightly, obviously feeling the need to ease the weight his declaration had apparently put on her. It sent a strange feeling through her to know his certainty about her morals was affecting her the way it was. More than that, she felt oddly…okay with the idea of him knowing how much his words had affected her.

But old habits die hard.

Quickly enough, she had her emotions back under control and hidden securely away. A small laugh hiccupped out of her as she nodded slowly, finally looking up to him. Her eyes were clear and shadowless again.

"That's certainly one way of putting it."

He smiled back.

With his help it didn't take long to get the Avengers' freshly tended arsenal squared away again. And when they did, it was just in time for dinner preparations to begin.

As Steve and Nadine made their way back to the kitchen the Barton kids were already making short work of the grilled cheese sandwiches their Auntie Nat had made them while their mom was starting on dinner for the herd of Avengers. It was impossible for the sight not to bring a smile to Nadine's face.

Just as it was impossible not to feel a sting of wistful regret.

Her little sister should've been able to do this with Nina too…

Quickly enough, Cooper and Lila were done with their dinner and their mom was shooing them out of the kitchen to finish up their homework so the Avengers could have their turn.

And before anyone seemed to realize what had happened, Laura Barton had put them all to work on dinner under her watchful eye; a born general, was Hawkeye's wife. Steve and Bruce were quickly set to cutting up vegetables while Nadine was assigned to keep an eye on sauce as she made up the salad. Nat put her prior familiarity with the Barton home to use as she started getting the flatware and cutlery together.

It was so…domestic.

It was nice.

It reminded her of her own small, happy moments, making dinner with Nina by her side, smiling and laughing as her daughter regaled her with tales of her day at school or her accomplishments during one of her after-school activities. Back when she'd been able to pretend she and Nina had a simple, normal life.

The ache in her chest that came with thoughts of Nina intensified again.

"How old is yours?" Nadine looked up to where Laura had come to stand next to her, checking on the monster batch of spaghetti sauce the pregnant woman was throwing together for her unexpected guests. Satisfied with its progress, she began throwing in the vegetables she'd collected from the guys, adding it to the simmering meat and tomato base. Nadine shot the other woman a questioning look. Laura grinned knowingly. "You multitask like a mom," she said with a hint of teasing. Nadine raised an equally light-hearted eyebrow at the other woman as she set the fresh-mixed salad aside.

"Am I to believe your husband didn't say anything?" Laura's eyes twinkled merrily. Nadine laughed softly as the other woman shrugged, grinning almost conspiratorially.

"Confirmed, really. He'd mentioned you before…this," Laura admitted, "that you'd temporarily joined the team." She sobered, fixing Nadine with a searching look, a flicker of sympathetic pain in her brown eyes. "But he didn't mention that you did because your daughter was taken."

"Nina's seventeen," Nadine supplied softly as Laura paused. The other woman's eyes widened with a trace of surprise, her own eyebrows rising. Nadine chuckled.

"Yeah, I know. Most people we knew back home just assumed I was an older sister or an aunt who'd adopted her—assumptions I never corrected, to be honest—but I really am her mom." Laura cleared her throat nervously, shooting Nadine an apologetic look as the blonde stirred the sauce.

"Sorry, but…wow." Nadine smiled back at the brunette.

"It's okay," she said with a smile, even surprising herself that the comment hadn't bothered her the way the observation about her perceived age as she usually was. "I'm used to it. I did have her quite young, but my Enhancement has also slowed my aging process a bit." Laura made a faintly wistful sound.

"Must be nice." Nadine glanced to the other woman and before they knew it, both of them had broken out into quiet giggles. As their shared laughter quieted, Laura grew serious again, laying a hand on Nadine's shoulder.

"He feels awful about what happened," Nadine frowned at her, her stomach twisting faintly as she guessed what the other woman meant. Sure enough, Laura's next words confirmed it. "Clint—that your daughter was taken while he, Nat and the Captain had you with them on their mission." Nadine shook her head slowly, a protest coming to her lips.

Funny, she hadn't even realized she honestly didn't blame the Avengers for Nina being taken anymore.

"No, I—Laura, I don't—" Laura nodded softly, seeming to understand.

"I know. He also said that you'd been sent after Nat to get you out of the way, that even if they hadn't insisted you go with them she might still have been gone by the time you got back. That doesn't change that he feels somewhat responsible. If it were our kids…" she glanced over to the table in the living room where Clint sat with their two children, leaning over Lila's shoulder as he pointed something out. She looked back to Nadine. "He's going to help get her back." Nadine was still watching Barton and his children, the ache in her chest intensifying as her eyes began to grow damp.

"He doesn't even know me…" she murmured, "I don't even know if…if our situations were reversed…" Laura's hand chafed her shoulder reassuringly, causing the blonde assassin to meet the brunette's assessing gaze.

"I think you would," Laura countered just as softly. Nadine's expression turned skeptical.

"You don't know me either," she pointed out firmly. Laura shrugged as she turned back to the sauce. It was beginning to smell heavenly.

"I know Nat. And even if Clint hadn't told me she still sees you as a sister even after being apart for so many years, I can see how much she cares about you, how highly she thinks of you. And I can see how much you care for her." The pregnant woman pulled the mixing spoon from the pot, tapping it gently against the rim before covering the sauce to simmer until the rest of the food was ready. She turned to Nadine again, her expression earnest. "You two are a lot alike. It's taken Nat a long time to get to the place she is now, to open up the way she has here and with the Team, even if she still acts the part of the unshakable, mission-oriented loner out in the world. But we've known from the moment we met her that she has a good heart. And I think you do too. Clint's not usually wrong about such things.

"And neither am I," she finished conclusively, a faintly challenging gleam in her eyes. But before Nadine could make her counter-argument, Stark's voice spoke up from the back door, interrupting each of the quiet conversations going on in the busy kitchen.

"Hey Barton?" Clint didn't even glance up from where he sat next to Lila, supervising his daughter as she worked on her homework.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"I think you need to clean out your barn more often." Just about everyone glanced over to the billionaire with some variation of confusion on their faces…save Laura, Nadine noticed, who quickly hid a look of mixed amusement and apology. "I found a stray next to the tractor. I hope you've got room for one more."

Nadine's jaw nearly dropped as Tony stepped aside to let Nick Fury into the house.


	38. Chapter 37

**Barton Home, USA**

**Spring 2015**

There had been times when Nadine hadn't felt at home in her own home.

But for some odd, baffling reason, she felt perfectly comfortable in the Barton home. Clint's wife Laura was a remarkable woman that Nadine had liked immediately and their two children were a lively, cheerful balm to all of them.

It was perfect…almost.

The only thing she was missing was Nina.

And a sense that they hadn't just failed miserably…

But other than those two facts, it was a perfect sanctuary. There were tasks aplenty to give the Avengers purpose while still allowing them respite from the events in Johannesburg. Physically taxing chores perfect for working through their frustrations and draining their emotional wounds, allowing them an outlet to help them reset and get their heads back.

And so far it seemed to have worked. Already Steve, Stark and Natasha were effectively back to their normal selves. Banner was taking a little longer, but that was wholly understandable, really.

And Barton looked more at ease here with his secret family than Nadine had ever seen him.

She now felt rather silly at not seeing it sooner, though. Really, the cues had been there from the first time she'd met the man. Hell, that he'd been the only one out of the three who'd caught her in Prague to put together that she had a family she was protecting should have been clue enough. He'd recognized as much without even knowing her because he had a family of his own that he'd been protecting the same way. He'd been the one to point out that people like them could actually have a life beyond what they did professionally. And he'd been the one above all the others, save perhaps Natasha, most determined to help her find Nina.

Because he could imagine what she was going through. He could understand her focus and her desperate fear on a level the others couldn't. Because he'd be feeling and doing exactly what she was had it been one of his children taken.

She was kicking herself now for not seeing it sooner.

Maybe that was why she felt so comfortable here…it was an odd sort of mirror to her own life.

Of course, some of that comfortable feeling had faded when a dead man walked in the back door.

Nick Fury was a legend in the Intelligence Community and Underworld circles alike. He'd been wicked smart, ruthless when he needed to be and surprisingly unpredictable for someone operating within the confines of laws and government oversight. His 'death' had caused ripples around the world that were still being felt.

There had been whispers, of course, that his assassination had been a smokescreen, that the attempt on his life had failed and a conspiracy had been whipped up to help him disappear to operate under the radar, but they had remained whispers only. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was just as legendary, after all.

Well, those whispers had certainly been onto something.

And one look at his single, sharp eye had told Nadine that Fury was exactly as his reputation claimed he'd been. He was not a man to underestimate. Certainly not one to cross.

And she certainly should have expected he'd know who she was.

Though, he barely seemed to acknowledge her presence like she'd expected. At least until after dinner.

"So," the former director finally said, turning to Nadine, "I have to admit, I was surprised when I heard rumours that The Ghost was running with the Avengers. I'll be the first to say I thought little of it at first, but when Hill confirmed as much…" He fixed her with an unreadable, assessing stare. Nadine just stared right back from where she sat across from Natasha, schooling her features and her body to appear far more relaxed than she felt as she subtly shifted her chair to face the former director. After a moment he seemed to come to whatever conclusion he'd been searching for, leaning back in his chair.

"I've always been curious about you," he declared with a trace of a smile, "thought about trying to recruit you a few years back, but you're awfully hard to track down."

"That was rather the idea," she responded casually, keeping her voice neutral, even going so far as to rest her arm on the table, fingers toying absently with her rumpled napkin. Fury nodded, a trace of amusement glinting in his eye before it turned sharp.

"Someone managed to, it seems." She bristled as he stood, making his way back into the kitchen proper. But he had already moved past the topic of her blackmail, to no small surprise of Nadine's. She narrowed her eyes at him instinctively, knowing he wasn't likely to let it go that easily. But for the time being, he seemed completely uninterested in that. "You're good, Ryker. Very good. Hiding out in plain sight as a ballet mistress with a teenaged daughter? Even knowing what I do about the practices in that KGB facility you and Romanoff came from, I wouldn't have guessed you'd go with that cover." He paused, glancing to her shrewdly. "Never would've pegged you for a team player, either."

"Desperate times called for desperate measures," she countered, not looking away from him. Fury nodded stoically as he leaned back against the counter.

"That they do. They lead to strange allies. I never expected to be sitting at the same dinner table as The Ghost, that's for sure." Nadine nearly smirked in response to his wry smile, the corner of her lips twitching. "I always thought if I was ever going to encounter you, Ms. Ryker, that I'd be looking down the barrel of your gun." She smiled tightly, knowing the expression wouldn't reach her eyes. She wasn't terribly concerned. A small, huffing chuckle escaped the former director.

"Yes, well, the idea of killing for someone else's political expediency doesn't quite sit well with me, and yes," she added, noticing he was winding up to interject, "I know I've still done it anyway. I am aware of the hypocrisy. But I've made it my business to only go after those who are like me, who kill for hire. I don't do run-of-the-mill assassinations anymore. It's a perk of my reputation."

"And yet rumour had it that it was you who was going to be coming after me back before I died." Nadine couldn't help the amused smirk that curled her lips this time.

"That's only partially true. I won't deny that feelers were put out; I was approached. But I said no. I don't do political assassination."

"You took out that Argentinian diplomat a couple of years ago," he pointed out before taking a calm sip from the glass he held, a trace of a smirk hiding behind the rim. Nadine's grin turned into a scowl as her eyes narrowed on the former director.

"I didn't exactly have much of a choice on that one, but I suspect you know that already. Normally I wouldn't have accepted, but I wasn't put in a position where I could refuse it either. And on the subject of your assassination? If Pierce hadn't been power-tripping or even quite so impatient in sending in the Winter Soldier, it might very well have been me HYDRA contracted to go after you. Turns out it was ultimately them pulling my strings with the blackmail, after all—plus, I'm a lot more expensive." Fury nodded in concession, his dark, knowing eye lifting back to study her. Satisfaction hummed in her chest as a flicker of surprise flashed in his sharp gaze; he hadn't expected her to be so candid about being blackmailed.

"I'll admit, I never knew for sure. Obviously HYDRA played their cards close to the vest, and that included their use of you. I'd been wondering about it for quite a while, though. Some of your hits never did quite add up to your regular MO. Made me think you had someone else behind the wheel." She couldn't help but bristle again, the return to the subject of her blackmailing alone making her tetchy even if she was the one who brought it up. She knew he hadn't been finished with it yet.

"Only four of them," she clarified coolly, "including the Argentinian." He wasn't at all surprised by the admission.

Oh yeah. He'd been known as 'The Spymaster' for good reason.

Even Natasha looked faintly startled by how much Fury knew about Nadine.

"Fascinating as this all is," Stark broke in then, breaking the loaded exchange between Nadine and Fury, "don't we have a bigger issue to tackle right now?" Reluctantly, the rest of the team nodded. For once, Nadine was quite glad for Stark's interruption. She wasn't terribly interested in getting any more into her past with the former director than she already had.

Fury raised his glass again almost in toast to the billionaire even as he pushed off the counter to reach for the jug waiting not far away, refilling his glass as he spoke.

"Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing." Nadine watched as Lila darted into the kitchen to gift Nat with a lovingly painted picture of a butterfly before running off at her father's call. She couldn't help a small smile at the adoring gesture, or the affectionate exchange between the little girl and the redhead.

"What about Ultron himself?" As she glanced over her shoulder to see the Barton children retreating upstairs for bed, Nadine didn't miss how the Captain glanced briefly to her after asking his question. She smiled faintly in thanks, knowing at least part of the reason he'd asked. Sadly, Fury's answer was…less than helpful, or hopeful.

"Ah." Fury pacing forward to the loaf of bread still sitting out on the small, mobile countertop across from the sinks, setting his glass down as he helped himself. "He's easy to track, he's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though."

"He still going after launch codes?" Stark asked, glancing over from his game of darts just outside the kitchen as Barton rejoined them. Where the idea of Ultron going after nuclear codes hadn't particularly gotten to her the night of the Party, now that he actually was going after them? The very thought that he was interested sent a chill up Nadine's spine.

"Yes, he is, but he's not making any headway." Well that was a small comfort… Tony, though, was suddenly very interested, turning to fix Fury with a searching look at the news, leaving his half-hearted game of darts momentarily forgotten.

"I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare," he protested, seeming genuinely bewildered that Ultron was having so much trouble; Nadine supposed that was fair. Considering everything else the A.I. was capable of? Especially where computers, technology and the Internet were concerned? That Ultron was having so much trouble did seem odd.

"Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that," Fury responded, still intent on making his snack. Steve frowned at the reference.

"NEXUS?"

"It's the world internet hub in Oslo," Banner jumped in to explain, "every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on earth." Steve nodded his understanding, his frown only deepening at the implications.

"So what'd they say?" Barton asked, bringing the conversation back around to Ultron and his nuclear dreams.

"He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed." Tony paused in retrieving his darts as he looked over to Fury again, the game again momentarily forgotten. The former director had finished preparing his bread and had returned to leaning next to the sinks.

'By whom?" The billionaire flinched as a trio of darts whizzed past his ear straight to the board's bull's-eye. Nadine bit back a grin…though, rather less successfully than she usually did judging by the similarly amused glance Natasha shot her. Barton merely shrugged unapologetically in response to Tony's aggravated glare. Completely unphased, Fury ignored them both, continuing as though nothing had interrupted the conversation.

"Parties unknown." Nadine and Natasha exchanged a worried glance, the redhead's brow furrowing thoughtfully as she turned to Fury.

"Do we have an ally?" Fury levelled her with an unreadable, though nearly admonishing look.

"Ultron's got an enemy, that's not the same thing." Natasha's grudging expression said she ceded to his point. "Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is."

"I might need to visit Oslo, find our 'unknown,'" Tony commented thoughtfully as he abandoned the darts, coming to lean against the doorframe to the kitchen.

"Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that," Natasha said then, shooting her former director a mildly challenging look. Fury shrugged, carefully chewing his bite of bread.

"I do. I have you," the former Director said as though it were obvious. Nadine held back a scoff, though her dry retort made it out.

"And there I thought you might actually have some sort of plan," she muttered. Natasha shot her an exasperated look, though next to Fury, Barton was trying and failing to hold back an amused smirk. Nadine could only shoot her sister the expression-equivalent of a shrug. She couldn't help herself, it seemed.

Again, Fury ignored the extraneous exchange, glancing around the room from Avenger to Avenger, even to Nadine, before continuing.

"Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. Now here we all are, back on earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world." The former director paced forward, still looking around to each of them as he spoke. "Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission. And whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction; all this," he gestured absently around the kitchen to back up his point, "laid in a grave." His grim outlook sent another, stronger chill down Nadine's spine. But she couldn't deny he was right on point. She couldn't shake the feeling that Ultron wanted more than just the Avengers dealt with. Fury's gaze was intent as he resumed after letting his heavy words sink in for a moment.

"So stand. Use what you've got. Use her," he looked directly at Nadine, who straightened, eyeing the former Director warily. But that didn't stop the way her chest swelled inadvertently at being included. They considered her an asset. It felt weird. Good, but weird. "She's arguably the best out there at tracking down those who don't want to be found. I have little doubt that, had she wanted to find me, she would have. And Romanoff? You're no slouch in that department yourself. Team up. Run him to ground." He gestured absently to Stark.

"Tony's going to do what he can at the NEXUS, hopefully getting Ultron's enemy on board as our ally. You're all smart," his eye flicked around the room again before he sank back into his seat at the head of the table, "and he's got it out for  _you_. Use that. Figure out how he's thinking if you can't figure out his plan. Get ahead of him, or at the very least, catch up.

"Outwit the platinum bastard." Across the table from Nadine, Natasha just barely held back a smirk, glancing with affected concern to the Captain.

"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk."

"You know what, Romanoff?" Steve warned lightly, a grin breaking through his serious expression. Natasha smiled mischievously back, bringing a chuckle to Nadine's lips. Only for the blonde assassin to sober as an idea sprung to mind.

"I don't know what his endgame is," Nadine spoke up softly, "but we know he did recruit the Maximoff's. And I was already close to pinning them. There could be something down that road." Fury nodded thoughtfully.

"There may be," he agreed before turning the focus back to the killer robot they were after. "So what does he want?" he prompted, steering them back on track. The whole team grew thoughtful before Steve spoke up.

"To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies," the Captain offered thoughtfully, his tone indicating at least a mild epiphany behind the observation, like he hadn't given it much thought until right then.

"Person bodies," Stark interjected with a faintly puzzled yet contemplative tone. "The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking; we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it." He did have a point, Nadine had to admit, though she wasn't quite sure yet how it was relevant. Natasha sighed.

"When you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed." Bruce meanwhile, had paced forward to stand next to Natasha as she spoke, a thoughtful expression falling over his face as he glanced down at the drawing Lila had given to Natasha. Nadine eyed him curiously; he was staring at it awfully intently. He'd had an idea, she realized.

"They don't need to be protected, they need to evolve" the doctor mused aloud, his voice rising from a murmur as his thoughts fell into place, drawing everyone's complete attention. "Ultron's going to evolve." Fury was the first to vocalize the inevitable next question.

"How?" Bruce looked up, a grave expression on his face.

"Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?" Nadine frowned in confusion just as almost everyone else did…save Tony, whose face lit up with understanding followed closely by alarm.

"Dr. Cho? The doctor who patched up Barton? What's she got to do with anything?" Nadine questioned. Natasha shook her head absently from across the table.

"I don't follow," the redhead added.

"What does Dr. Cho have to do with Ultron," Barton asked almost at the same time. But Banner and Stark were already virtually deaf to the world, glancing to each other as both their prodigious brains kicked into high gear.

"The Cradle?" Banner nodded at Stark's question.

"It makes sense," Banner said with a hesitant shrug, "especially when you consider all that Vibranium he took and his penchant for building ever improving bodies." Stark frowned. Nadine was lost. So he wanted to build a Vibranium body…yeah, that was bad, but what did it have to do with this doctor?

"Could he really do it, though? The Cradle isn't intended to actually  _build_  anything," Stark questioned. Banner shrugged again.

"Provided she was able to find a way past the binding problems and figure out a way to maintain cellular cohesion, it's possible."

"And you think using Vibranium would do the trick."

"Well, it is remarkably versatile. It's atomic structure—"

"English, guys?" Natasha broke in, snapping the two geniuses from their brainstorming. Slowly Bruce nodded in apology before launching into a more straightforward explanation.

"He's going to try and use Dr. Cho's Cradle technology to build himself an android body using the Vibranium. It might be a long shot—it might not even be possible to do, even with the Cradle—but we can't discount the possibility."

"Then we need to get to Seoul," Steve said gravely.

"But what about after the body, if that's even his next step?" Nadine asked softly. "That can't be his endgame."

"We need to find his base of operations," Natasha continued, glancing around to the rest of the team. Steve absently nodded, glancing between the two of them.

"You think you two can find it?" The two assassins exchanged a loaded glance. Nadine had her doubts, but with Natasha backing her up? Her little sister was of the same opinion. Finally Natasha nodded as she looked back to Steve.

"Between the two of us? I think we've got a shot."

"Good," Fury said with finality. "Then get to work." The effect was immediate, breaking the spell that had fallen over the room. Almost as one, the team was moving to suit up, everyone understanding the time for planning and brainstorming was over.

But as Nadine stood from the table, Fury's deceptively casual voice had her pausing. She couldn't even say she was surprised that he wasn't quite finished with her yet.

"Have you ever considered joining S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Nadine huffed out a chuckle. There was no point in making a smart comment about the Intelligence Agency no longer existing—really, that it had reformed was one of the worst kept secrets on the planet right at the moment.

"Once upon a time, I might have considered it," she answered with a dismissive tone. But then she glanced up to the former director, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically candid. "But now? Once I have my daughter back, Fury, I'm done. I'm retiring. Closing up shop. The Ghost is going back into hiding and never coming out again." Natasha glanced over sharply from the door to the hall as she heard the declaration, astonishment written clearly on her face.

Even Nadine was surprised herself at how easily it had slipped out. Truthfully, she'd been considering it for a long time, even before Nina had been taken. But she had only begun seriously thinking about it here, in the peace of the Barton Homestead; the idea of a normal life was intoxicating.

She hadn't even realized she'd made her decision until the words had come tumbling out of her mouth.

She was so tired of this life. Of hiding. Of killing.

But Fury fixed her with an unreadable smile, his dark eye glinting knowingly.

"Never say never, Ryker."


	39. Chapter 38

**Somewhere over the Pacific**

**Spring 2015**

Before she knew it, everyone had suited up and they were all going their separate ways. There was no time to waste, as the saying went. So the team split, with each heading off on their own missions.

Stark went on to the NEXUS. Thor was still MIA, presumably still doing whatever it was he had left to do. Fury was headed on to New York, taking Banner with him. The scientist, no matter that he looked much better, arguably still needed to sleep off the lingering effects from the disastrous mission in South Africa.

Besides, they simply couldn't take the risk of him going green again just now, not after Johannesburg. Especially not with the Maximoff girl still in play. So he was heading back to the Tower to recuperate further and lend long-distance support to the rest of the team as needed.

Rogers, Barton, Natasha and Nadine, meanwhile, went on to Seoul. And Nadine couldn't quite fight the anxious feeling growing in her gut. Yes, they had a better idea of what they were up against should they face off with Ultron and the Twins again, but still… They hadn't exactly fared so well the last time.

And then there was Ultron himself. He was a wild card: utterly unpredictable in his methods. Nothing he was doing seemed to make sense. There was something they were missing. And that  _really_  made Nadine nervous. That's what made him so dangerous in her mind. Not his body-swapping ability, or his brute strength, his technology, his resources or even his talent for slipping away through the Internet. Not even that he still had Nina.

It was his unpredictability.

It left her feeling extremely uneasy about tracking him down…chasing after him digitally? It was as good as going behind enemy lines when dealing with Ultron.

At first Nadine thought she was going to be riding back to New York with Fury and Banner to get back to work on her search for the Twins and to start her work on tracing Ultron to his base of operations…hopefully finding out where he was keeping Nina in the process.

Only to be waylaid by Rogers asking that she join them on the Quinjet to Seoul.

"We'll need everyone we can get," he'd explained, "especially if Ultron and the Twins are there. Plus, we need you and Nat to start putting your heads together as soon as possible to find Ultron's base. And since I need Nat with me and Barton, it makes sense that you stay with her. It's a long trip to Seoul; you can get a good start." Inexplicably, Nadine had hesitated, but she'd seen no reason to refuse.

He'd been right, after all. Not only had they been able to start tracing Ultron immediately, it was much easier to work with Natasha when they were actually together.

Neither could she deny the logic of having as many hands on deck as they could in the event a fight broke out…not that Nadine believed her presence would make much difference should that happen. Ultron and the Twins had easily been able to take the whole team the first time—the fact that they'd caught the Avengers unawares was rather beside the point. She had a feeling being prepared would've made little difference.

No sooner had they taken off then Nadine and Natasha were settling in in front of the Quinjet's computer consoles. It didn't take long for Nadine to retrieve what remained of her work on locating the Twins from the Avengers' servers or for Natasha to do the same with their fledgling attempts at tracking Ultron.

Then they dove in.

At first it was slow going, each woman digging through a monumental digital equivalent of white noise. But as the hours passed and they drew closer to Seoul, their work grew more focused and their verbal exchanges more succinct as they began to make real headway.

As high as the stakes were, Nadine had to admit she was enjoying working side-by-side with her sister. It was easy, working like this with Nat, like they'd been working together like this for years. Their thought processes and skill level were similar enough that they didn't often have to take time to explain what one needed the other to do. They just did it, sometimes doing it instinctively before the other even asked. And as they dug deeper into their trace on the Maximoffs and Ultron, verbal queries and confirmations all but ceased altogether as they worked in perfect sync.

And it was working. They were getting closer with each keystroke. They were on the right track and they both knew it.

While it had taken time, between Nadine and Natasha's hacking skills and Nadine's expertise in finding those who didn't wish to be found, they were finally narrowing in where Ultron was hiding his base of operations.

"Steve," Natasha called as she stood from her own console to look over Nadine's shoulder, "I think we're close." As the Captain made his way over, Nadine added: "It's looking like he's set up shop somewhere in Eastern Europe. A few more minutes, and we should be able to narrow it down to a country. A few more after that and—" she was abruptly cut off as Ultron's voice echoed through the Quinjet.

"You think you can find my secrets, Nadine Ryker? Or should I say, Nadya Rykova? You think I wasn't expecting this?" Instantly, Natasha and Nadine were scrambling to stop his intrusion.

Or better yet, use it to trace him further.

"I knew we were getting close," Natasha hissed as her fingers flew over the keyboard, "he wouldn't be doing this otherwise. He's nervous. He's panicking." Silently, Nadine nodded in agreement, forcing away the anxious dread that had materialized in her gut the instant Ultron had said her name…both names. She had to stay focused. He was trying to distract her and she couldn't let him…but despite her best efforts, it was a dread that only intensified as his voice continued to purr through the cabin.

"How would you like it if I started sharing your secrets?" And then all the screens went black for a heartbeat before documents, images, videos and more were flashing across them, each and every one a snapshot of Nadine's life…both lives. Though her face paled, she didn't stop, even when she felt Natasha's fearful eyes glancing her way. She didn't even let herself try to stop him revealing her secrets; she was close, she could feel it! She couldn't stop. They needed to find Ult—and then her fingers froze at what the A.I. said next, her face going a step past white to ashen.

Especially at the images and documents suddenly staring back at her from every screen around them. Behind her Rogers tensed as Natasha audibly gasped in dismay.

"How would your new friends feel to learn about your history with the Winter Soldier? Would they still trust you after learning about how you toyed with him…" Nadine felt like she was about to be sick, her horror at what Ultron was doing solidifying her dread into a hard, sharp mass expanding into her chest, "…seduced him…"

"It wasn't like that," she choked out as the A.I. fell silent, her voice hardly more than a whisper. Natasha was looking between her sister and her friend with fearful apprehension. Slowly, her entire body feeling sluggish with the weight of what Ultron just revealed, Nadine turned to Natasha, her wide grey eyes vulnerable with panic and dismay as she reached up to grab at the redhead's wrist imploringly, "Natalia, it wasn't like that, I swear. It wasn't—"

"I know, Nadya," Natasha broke in softly, struggling to keep her own reactions in check as she took her sister's cold hand tightly in her own. A sound almost like a gasping sob hiccupped in Nadine's throat at the assurance, her eyes sliding shut with a flicker of relief. But it was then that Steve spoke, his voice hard.

"Then what was it like?" His movements stiff with suppressed anger, the Captain leaned forward, tapping on the monitor to bring the video playing silently behind the other windows forward on the screen.

Nadine nearly choked on the horror rising like bile in her throat, suddenly feeling like a jagged lump of ice was rolling around in the pit of her stomach while the weight of a building tried to settle on her shoulders.

"Where did he get this…" It was barely more than a strangled murmur, but they heard her, "it shouldn't even…"

There was no mistaking what the video showed. Even old, dark and grainy as it was, her pale hair gleamed in the dim light and the nondescript cotton nightgown did nothing to hide her strong, lithe dancer's form—her assassin's form. A distant part of her even recognized the room as the one she used to retreat to for a moment of quiet in another life, in her past life.

And there was no mistaking him. The metal arm alone gave it away, but mostly she recognized him in the way he moved; powerful and predatory.

Neither was there any chance of mistaking what was happening.

It all came back in a rush; every desperate, agonizing moment she'd tried to bury away, every feeling of guilt and horror and regret that part of her life had left festering in the most secret corners of her mind.

She couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away. Not locked as they were on him. Not with her memories of the man so newly refreshed in her mind. Not with her heart breaking anew at the memory of how empty he'd seemed. How horrifically blank. And yet…there had been those brief, hopeful moments where he'd seemed so very nearly  _aware_.

It was branded into her memory. She'd never escape it. Never atone…

He'd been so aimless. He'd been left to his own command in that room, but had been so indoctrinated and controlled that he'd seemed almost lost as he'd looked down at her, stalking closer as though he hadn't quite been sure if she were friend…or prey.

But then…that flicker of awareness…

God, why had she let herself give in? How could she have been so weak…she should have been stronger. She had been  _trained_  to be stronger!

She should've known to run as soon as she'd realized she wasn't alone in that room…

But as she looked at the video, a sickening realization crashed in on her, making Nadine's stomach roil even more violently and her chest feel like it was caving in on itself for the pressure her sudden welling of despair was exerting.

She'd been set up.

They'd known about her retreat, her refuge. Madame B, once she'd realized Nadine was going to refuse, had pushed her harder in training, knowing the expectation placed on her would drive her to the solitude of that abandoned room…

It was why he'd been quartered there.

She had been played.

How had she not seen it before? It was so painfully obvious! She'd been set up, expertly manipulated, and she had played right into their plan. And once there, she hadn't been able to resist the pull, the intensity of the desire being alone with him had ignited.

But looking now at the way her legs, pale and slender and bright in the dim footage, were wrapped around his waist, or the way his metal arm had braced against the wall, or how her hands clutched at his hair and shoulders as he moved against her in the grainy video file, she felt nothing. Even as the ghosting memories brushed against her skin—trying to remind her of the intoxicating feel of him against her, inside her, of the excruciating burn that had surged through her body at his touch, firing up her senses in a way she'd never expected, had never experienced until then—she felt nothing. Nothing except shame and regret and misery.

And the weight of her new companions knowing pressing down on her.

Her eyelids slammed shut.

She couldn't watch anymore.

"If you're looking for an explanation, I have nothing satisfying to offer. It was an assignment." She felt so numb that she barely realized the quiet, resigned words had even left her mouth.

Technically, what she'd said was true. But it had been more than that then. She didn't know what aspect she hated more, that it had been ordered of her—the fact that she'd refused initially was irrelevant—or that she'd also wanted it…desperately.

God, she sounded heartless. But when she glanced up, inadvertently catching Natasha's nearly despondent gaze, she realized that was the wrong descriptor.

She sounded lifeless.

"Did you have a choice?" Natasha's voice was nearly a whisper, but to Nadine it felt like a shout. She forced a breath into her lungs, her chest aching with the effort, before making a helplessly unsure almost-shrug and answering her oldest friend.

"I—not as much as I believed at the time," she finally admitted, not caring that the bitter truth sounded more like an excuse. A stricken look passed like a shadow over Natasha's face, her eyes beginning to shine in the artificial light.

"Did he?" Nadine's eyes jerked instinctively to Steve, but she could hardly bear to look at him. He couldn't look at her, his eyes unfocused as they stared down past his tightly crossed arms. But then he did, his gaze latching painfully onto hers. He sounded so emotionless, so detached. It felt…wrong to see his naturally open features so closed off.

But then she caught the faintest glimpse of the pain he was fighting so hard to restrain…pain and anger. She didn't expect it to hurt so much to see. Nadine nearly choked when she tried to answer, her chest aching with the tension in the Quinjet that only seemed to get worse with each passing moment.

"I don't know," she finally forced out, "I keep looking back, trying to figure out if—if he had any—but I don't know. I was told he would be under no orders…that they'd be leaving him free to follow his base instincts if he were capable…but I don't know if that was true. There were moments when I thought—when he'd brush back my hair, or—my supervisor didn't think  _that_  would even be possible, claiming he didn't have the free-will anymore to—but then he'd—I just don't know anymore." Unable to stand it any longer, the weight pressed down on her until she sagged into the chair, her head falling to her hand as she instinctively began curling in on herself, in around her aching heart, as though that could somehow ease the weight or the aching awareness of them knowing, of what she'd revealed, and of what was left unsaid.

For the longest time no one said a word, the Quinjet falling utterly silent under the burden of Nadine's spilled secret. Natasha's hand didn't ease its grip on Nadine's though, and for that she was grateful. It felt like the firm pressure on her fingers was the only thing holding her together just then.

But part of her also wished Natasha would pull away—she didn't have the strength or the will to do it herself, unable to sacrifice that one comfort—feeling like there was no way she even remotely deserved such a demonstration of compassion and support.

How could she, with what she'd done to that poor man laid bare for all to see?

She didn't even know his real name, for heaven's sake. She knew nothing about who he'd once been before.

Not for any lack of effort…but what did that matter? It changed very little.

Rogers was the one to finally break the silence.

"Did you know?" Steve had turned his hard gaze to Natasha, his voice low. It was only then that Nadine recognized the cast of his voice; hurt, betrayal, disbelief. Natasha had recognized it immediately, her response cautioning but sad.

"Steve—"

"Did you know." There was no arguing, and they all knew it. Reluctantly, Natasha nodded. A pained breath was crushed from Steve.

"Not at the time, not exactly. But I figured it out."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"What good would it have done," she countered just as softly, her eyes impossibly conflicted but nevertheless certain that she was still right.

He didn't have a response to that. At least not one that he was willing to say. And when he simply turned and paced to the other end of the Quinjet, Nadine was struck with a sudden, painful stab of guilt even as an ache of relief seeped through her.

The rest of the trip passed in silence.

Nadine wasn't sure if that was a mercy or a curse.


	40. Chapter 39

**Somewhere over the Pacific**

**Spring 2015**

Steve only vaguely remembered waking up from being frozen—flashes, feelings, sensations. At first it had only only been through dreams that they'd really come back to him. The worst had been beginning to breathe again after seventy years in the ice. There were still nights where he'd wake up unable to breathe as his body forced him to remember; his chest jerking, heaving, compressed; his lungs trying desperately to draw in even a gasp of air, but his body not quite seeming to remember how; those few, agonizing moments where he hadn't been able to draw breath.

He felt that way now.

He couldn't think…he couldn't process…

All he could focus on was that fact that Nadine had used Bucky.

She'd  _used_  him, in the most appalling way he could imagine in that moment.

There had never been any doubt that Bucky had always been a bit of a ladies man; too charming for his own good, they'd used to tease. With a smile and a few clever words, he could never fail to charm his way into their affections, easily earning smiles back. It had never been that easy for Steve.

But he'd never taken advantage of it. Sure, he'd definitely charmed dames into giving up dances, kisses and sometimes more, but it had never been for the sake of conquest. Bucky had never been a rake, and he'd never purposefully treated a girl's feelings lightly. Not to say he hadn't broken a few hearts along the way. Too charming for his own good, after all. There had definitely been times when he hadn't even realized just how charming he'd been. That Steve could attest to.

No, he'd respected the skirts he'd chased. Raised as he'd been by Mrs. Barnes? He wouldn't have dared do anything else. He had never taken anything they hadn't been willing to give. He'd never pressured a dame. Ever. Steve vividly remembered as much, having been witness on more than one occasion when Bucky had stood up for young women in just those sorts of positions—from their over eager dates obviously making them uncomfortable at dances when they'd been teenagers to a soldier outside a bar in Britain trying to have his fun with a pretty local who wasn't the least bit interested.

It was just another sort of bullying, and Bucky had never been able to stand a bully. He would certainly never consider doing such a thing himself. Steve knew him well enough to know that without his oldest friend having ever said a word on the subject. Not that Bucky had kept his thoughts on such things to himself. More than once, he'd condemned such behaviour with clear disdain, swearing under his breath that he'd never try to take advantage like that after chasing off another overly handsy soldier.

He would never intentionally hurt a woman, physically or otherwise. Certainly not like that.

So to learn that  _this_  had happened? To learn that his closest, oldest friend had been dehumanized even further? To see more evidence that his freewill had been stripped from him? To see the sickening evidence playing like a reel before him? It made Steve feel genuinely and viscerally sick to his stomach. It hurt like a kick to the gut.

Bucky deserved so much better.

His jaw clenched tighter, his teeth beginning to ache with the pressure.

Oh, how he wanted to lash out; words, fists, it didn't matter. The leather of his gloves creaked, his hands were fisting so tightly. He  _needed_  to, or he felt like he was going to snap.

But, no matter how all-encompassing his anguish and his anger was, part of him was still rational enough to keep those impulses in check. He knew he couldn't allow it, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew he couldn't lose control, no matter how good it would feel to do so, especially feeling as helpless as he currently did. There was simply too much else at stake. There was still a job to do.

They still needed to find and stop Ultron. That was the priority.

But why hadn't they  _told_  him! Especially Natasha. She should've known how important—how devastating—learning something like this would be to him. She knew how important Bucky was to him, how responsible he felt for him. She should have realized… Steve sighed.

She did. She did know him, just as he knew Natasha. He knew better than to doubt her. She weighed and measured and analyzed everything. As soon as she'd figured out what had happened between Bucky and her sister, she would have been calculating how best to handle the information.

After everything that had happened in DC, when he'd been recovering from his injuries, she'd visited him. During that visit, she had shared everything—or at least, he'd thought it had been everything—she'd known about the Winter Soldier. About Bucky. From the rumours and stories she'd heard over the years to actually going up against him during her training.

Natasha was incredibly intelligent, and she was incredibly calculating. There was no denying that fact. She had been trained to be. But more than that, Steve had come to realize in the time that he'd known her that she was also incredibly protective of those she cared about. And when she let herself care, she cared deeply. If there was something she hadn't told him, she would've had good reason.

Even through his heartache and resentment, he could recognize as much. He saw it in her, in how conflicted and pained and remorseful she'd been when he'd asked her why. She must have thought she was sparing him. He'd been hurting enough just from hearing what she'd told him that day in the hospital, and that wasn't even factoring in everything that had happened in the days leading up to that painful visit.

No. Irrational as he felt in that moment, he could understand her logic. Bucky had been all but lost after the Helicarriers fell and, as far as the redhead had known then, her sister had been long dead. He could understand why she'd made that call.

Nadine, though…that he couldn't understand.

They'd made such promising steps. He'd been starting to trust her, and he'd been sure they'd been well on their way to earning her trust. She'd opened up to him!

How could  _she_  not have told him!

A small, rational part of him was trying to insist that, not only was he wilfully ignoring facts laid plainly before him, but that there was more, that there was something else he was missing. But the feeling that there was something more he was on the verge of piecing together, another aspect just waiting for to be deciphered, was not something he could focus on. Not that he could have even if he'd wanted to. He was very much not equipped emotionally just now to be overly rational about this. Understanding Natasha's reasoning had pushed his control and his compassion to the limit for the time being. He didn't have the capacity in the face of his outrage and sorrow for his best friend. So he pushed the thought that there had to be more to what he'd learned violently away. Part of him was even afraid to think on it, shying away from the sense that the blonde assassin's past with Bucky was far more complicated than it was already shaping up to be. He already had far too much to come to terms with just now. And all of it was thanks to Ultron.

Though, the bitter, angry part of him actually wanted to thank the A.I….

He shoved that thought away in disgust, the sudden impulse surprisingly doing a great deal to clear his head.

Though part of him was relieved, however odd a feeling as it seemed, that he now knew the truth, he could imagine no more horrible way to find out. It would have been enough for the robot simply to allude to what Nadine had done, just as he had before he'd begun sharing the documentation and that gut-wrenching visual evidence. That would've been more than enough. By involving Bucky? Ultron would have assured Steve's determination to pull the whole story from Nadine. He hadn't had to share the surveillance feed like that. It had been overkill. Overly dramatic. Well, Ultron was that. Twisted and without a conscience as he was, Ultron did enjoy his theatrics; he got that from Tony, apparently. And he seemed to enjoy toying with them. That's what this was. Even more than this was about throwing them off balance even as he knew the Avengers were coming for him, Ultron was taunting them. Demonstrating his power. His reach. He could get to any of them. He could torment them.

And he didn't even need the Maximoff Twins to do it. They were just his back up.

After Johannesburg, part of him had been ready to all but tear the Twins apart—especially the girl—after what she'd done to his team. But now?

It was nothing compared to what he felt for Ultron in that moment.

Well? Tony had been obliquely asking if Steve even had a dark side. He was certainly straying dangerously close to it. He certainly felt angry and vindictive enough, just now. And not just toward Ultron. He cursed silently under his breath.

He knew he shouldn't be thinking like that. But dammit, he just couldn't help it. Not with that awful video and her words rattling around in his brain.

His fists clenched tighter where they lay propped against his forehead. Forcing in a long, deep breath to try and get his head back on, he began to straighten, though his elbows remained braced against his knees. After another moment, he forced his fists to loosen. His fingers ached at the motion.

He had to get his head past this, even if only for the duration of the mission. The mission was far too critical to let even a revelation of this magnitude throw him off track. Far too much was at stake. Forcing in another deep breath he leaned back, purposefully avoiding looking over to where he knew Natasha sat with her adoptive sister. He needed to get his focus back on the mission, and looking to the blonde assassin would only derail that effort.

After another few minutes of wrestling with his chaotic thoughts, he managed to get them back under some semblance of control, forcing himself to push them aside. He couldn't afford to dwell on them just now. Not when he knew perfectly well they could get him or his teammates killed if he did. But that didn't stop the pang in his chest or the ache in his gut at doing so. Ultron's revelation about Bucky had cut him too deeply for that.

Dare he even think it, but what he knew now? It was quite possibly affecting him worse than when he'd believed Bucky had been killed all those years ago. No, it was definitely taking a worse toll than Bucky's 'death' had. Believing Bucky dead had been so…final. There had been nothing more he could've done once he fell. It had meant, as much as his thoughts had turned to Bucky those days, they hadn't truly distracted him from his mission. More than that, there had been some sort of purpose behind his next moves, allowing him to use his pain and his grief and his guilt. If anything, it had leant him focus.

Now? There was no such focus. Sure, there was still the fight against Ultron, and he supposed he could harness some of his resultant aggression against the robot; the A.I. had provided the impetus for his rattled state of mind, after all. But it wasn't the same. Not with the crushing sense of helplessness to help Bucky weighing on him. Not knowing that his best friend was still out there. Not feeling the overwhelming need to somehow help his oldest friend weighing on him. Though rationally he knew it wasn't his fault, that he'd been a casualty of war and circumstances beyond his control, Steve couldn't help the guilt surging up amid his righteous anger.

If he'd only been able to reach a little farther…

His fists clenched again as he stood abruptly.

It was too late, now. What was done was done. All he could do now was move forward. And forward pointed him back to the mission at hand.

They needed to stop Ultron from getting his hands on the Cradle. Steve fought to narrow his focus to that single, critical objective. Whatever came next he would face, be it the personal fallout over what his friend had been put through or in their fight to stop Ultron. But for now, Seoul was first up, and he needed to strategize. And to strategize, he needed to focus.

It was a focus—and distraction, if he was being honest—that was sorely needed, weighing the options for how to approach their mission allowing him to further distance himself from what he had learned. Even so, it was a struggle to keep himself objective in his planning. And even then, he had to cede that it probably wasn't his most rational of plans.

But it was the best he could come up with just now. It would have to be enough.

Up in the cockpit, Barton called out softly that they were on approach. Letting out a long, heavy exhale, Steve looked to the cockpit, finally managing to snap the final lock into place on his chaotic thoughts.

As satisfied as he could be that he was back under control, he strode forward to confer with Barton about the course of action he'd settled on.

They had a job to do.


	41. Chapter 40

**Somewhere over the Pacific**

**Spring 2015**

Oh, this was so bad…

There was no way for Natasha to downplay that simple fact in her mind.

Of all the times for  _this_  to come out?

She wanted to rip Ultron's central processor or whatever he had that was equivalent to a heart out herself for the pain he'd caused.

She'd known, or at least, Natasha had suspected what had happened between Nadine and Barnes all those years ago. It had been hard not to, even young as she'd been at the time. It wasn't like sex had been a mystery in the Red Room. It was a fact of life, a natural function—a predictable motivator—they had been taught to exploit. So it hadn't been too difficult to figure out what had likely been happening with Nadya, especially knowing her sister as well as she had. The marks she'd seen left on her older sister's skin? The marks on his? The changes in her behaviour? Neither had it been hard to discern that whatever had happened hadn't sat well with Nadya even then. And it appeared it hadn't gotten any better with time.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

And Natasha suspected that had everything to do with Nina.

But she'd really given it very little thought in the time since their days in the Red Room simply because she'd believed Nadya dead, the Winter Soldier permanently trapped by his programming and some secrets better left lost.

She hadn't even thought to tell Steve about Barnes' time in the Red Room when she'd first told him about the Winter Soldier's existence. She hadn't seen the point, and they'd still been learning to trust each other, then. But then everything changed.

And she'd learned the Winter Soldier was actually Bucky Barnes.

She'd told Steve that Barnes had been brought in for a short time during her training not long after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, during Steve's recovery after what had happened on the Helicarriers. But that had been it. She hadn't told him about Nadya; even remembering her lost sister had still been too painful. She never would've been able to get the words out. Besides, at the time she'd truly believed telling him about her sister would've done little good. So she certainly hadn't shared what she had suspected had transpired between Nadya and Barnes. She'd seen little point in hurting Steve with more than the barest knowledge of what Barnes had done and experienced in the Red Room. It was in the past and done and that was that. Steve had already been in enough pain, shouldering more guilt than he deserved over what had happened to Barnes.

She knew he blamed himself for what had happened to his friend. There had been no missing it. The guilt and remorse had been written clearly in his eyes.

So she'd decided not to tell him about Nadya's relationship with his oldest friend…if it could even be called that…

What good would it have done save to torment the Captain?

She couldn't bear to do that to her friend.

But as soon as Nadine had reappeared in her life? She'd had a sinking feeling in her gut that the truth would eventually out and she regretted not having said something before. But with Nadine back? It also meant it was no longer just her secret to tell.

Especially when Nadine had dropped the little bombshell that she had a daughter…and that Nina's existence was her reason for running from the Red Room.

That revelation had led to one inevitable conclusion that Natasha was rather wishing she'd didn't know just now…one that had the potential to break Nadine and further devastate Steve.

They were both so important to her; Nadine was her sister; Steve was one of her few true friends. And there was no way out of this mess without both of them getting hurt. There were only options that would hurt less than others.

It was why she'd tried to broach the subject of Nadine telling the others—and by extension Steve—about  _why_ Strucker had wanted Nina; because of her relationship to Nadine  _and_  Barnes. It would've been the best, even kindest way to break the news: let the realization come out of a show of trust. Had Nadine offered up Nina's relationship to Barnes? It all would've fallen out very differently. Nadine would've controlled the narrative, showing that both she and Barnes had been victims of a cruel administration, whether she meant to portray herself as such or not. It would've let Steve realize that Nadine was not malicious in her keeping of that secret, but rather that she'd been protecting Barnes' child the best way she knew how, the only way she'd been able to. It would've been a way for her to further earn his trust. It would've given him pause.

But the blonde assassin had immediately and decisively shut that idea down. Understandably, Nadine did not trust easily. She'd spent so long on her own, with little choice but to bury her secrets away under layers of lies and misdirection and more secrets in the hope that no one could use them against her or her child.

Despite knowing she'd had to try, Natasha had held little hope that she'd be able to convince Nadine to share her greatest secret with anyone, much less with people she barely knew, people whose interference had only helped Strucker in getting his hands on her daughter. There had been simply no way. Not when Nadine had spent the last eighteen years convinced that that secret getting out would only put Nina's life in danger.

Well, she hadn't entirely been wrong on that score…

But now there was more at stake than just Nina's safety. Now Ultron was in on the secret and he was using it to try and throw them off their game.

And the worst part was that it was working.

Steve was now struggling to process what he'd learned and Nadine was distraught. She was a mess right when they needed her most.

Right when they were so close to tracking the metal bastard down.

Steve, she knew, would manage. He was a soldier first and foremost and he could compartmentalize with the best…though, Natasha had also learned all bets were off when Barnes was involved…

Natasha groaned, her hand rising to massage her forehead.

This was so bad…

Steve could work through it, even if it was only for the duration of the mission, she convinced herself. Beating Ultron was too important, no matter how earth-shattering and destabilizing the news about his oldest friend was.

At least Ultron hadn't spilled the beans that Nina was actually Barnes' daughter… If Steve thought finding out about Nadine and Barnes was a tough pill to swallow, she was not looking forward to him discovering  _that_  piece of news.

A little part of her was dreading the possibility that Steve might very well put it together himself.

Was it too much to hope that Nina's relationship to Barnes was something the robot didn't know?

Probably.

The fallout from Nina's paternity coming to light was going to be bad. There was no doubt about that.

Which was almost hard to believe, because this was bad enough.

Natasha had  _never_  seen Nadine like this. Ever. Even when she'd shown up at the Tower out of the blue with news that her secret daughter had been taken by Strucker she hadn't seemed this affected.

Or at least, she'd hidden it better.

It was certainly proof that the blonde assassin had been severely scarred by what she'd been 'asked' to do in the Red Room.

By what she had done.

Normally, Natasha would've been just as sure that Nadine could at least lock it all away to focus on the mission. After all, there was no one better at compartmentalization than a Red Room Recruit, officially graduated or not. Normally, at least. Right now the redhead wasn't so sure. Nadine was emotional and volatile when Nina was involved, making her unpredictable. It left Natasha oddly understanding of the Red Room's Graduation Ceremony…oh, she'd always understood the logic, but here she was being confronted with the reality of it.

And for Nadine there was also the added complication that where Barnes was involved, Nina was automatically brought to mind. Understandable; the two were inextricably linked for Nadine, after all.

That wasn't even accounting for the psychological scarring either.

Already Natasha could see in Steve's face that, while far from coming to terms with what he'd learned, he was capable of setting it aside for the sake of the mission. But there was little doubt he was going to be confronting it as soon as this mission was over. She could see it in the determined glint in his eyes and the firm set of his jaw.

And Nadine was trying. Natasha could see it plainly in the way the blonde's eyes were tightly closed despite the virtually relaxed expression she wore. But her usually impeccably schooled features were betraying her. There was no hiding the overwhelming guilt and regret written on her sister's unusually transparent face.

It was heartbreaking to think that she'd been carrying that level of guilt without confiding in a single soul for so long, hiding it desperately away from everyone, even Natasha, lest she risk someone using it against her child.

Because that was what lay at the heart of her fear, after all. Though, it was beginning to look to Natasha like her sister hadn't expected to feel as devastated as she was by the reveal; she suspected a big part of that had to do with seeing a visual record of it, with being so violently confronted with it, the violation of it. Natasha couldn't imagine…well, she could, but she'd never experienced it herself.

No, Natasha could see that her sister hadn't anticipated the power that video would have over her as easily as she could see just how deeply affected Nadine had been; it took a little work, but once she knew it was there, it was as plain as day. If she hadn't watched the cracks in Nadine's composure appear the instant Ultron had begun dumping her secrets for them all to see, she never would've guessed that the remorse and self-reproach her sister had hidden away over what had happened between her and Barnes ran as deep as it did, or so strongly.

'Heartbreaking' really didn't cover it.

She was really starting to second-guess her plans now…

Even when she and Bruce had made their tentative agreement to disappear when this Ultron Fiasco was over with, she'd been fighting a flicker of doubt. Yes, after being so brutally confronted with the harsh, blunt reminder of what she was, she was questioning if she was really deserving of calling herself an Avenger, if it was really the life she was cut out for. If she really  _belonged_  with them…if she was really suited to being part of a team at all. Clint had questioned her desire to be a part of just that before the Battle of New York, for heaven's sake. But as she'd joined Clint, Steve and Nadine on the Quinjet to Seoul, she had been forced to confront the realization that she was more than just a spy and assassin when she was with them. She was inarguably a member of the team and they relied on her.

But that hadn't been the sum of it, either.

She'd also been confronted with the realization that in the time since the Battle of New York, they had become more than a team.

They'd become a family.

The Avengers were indisputably her family now. Not only did she have real purpose with the team, but they valued her as  _more_  than just an asset. They valued her for just being 'Natasha.' She felt like she  _belonged_  with them.

As tempting as the urge to run still was—she'd known little else, so there was a sense of safety in the idea—she was no longer sure she could run out on them anymore, even when this was over and done with.

She'd realized she didn't  _want_  to leave.

Not really.

She  _liked_  having a family.

And she wanted to fight for her family.

As she looked to Nadine again, she realized she now had one more reason to stay…two, if she counted Nina. She certainly couldn't run now. Not with Nadine's secret hanging over their heads and the looming second part yet to, well, explode onto the scene. Nadine was going to need her support when Steve confronted her about Barnes, and her sister was definitely going to need her support when Nina's paternity came to light. And so was Steve. She was going to need to use every ounce of patience and compassion she had when that secret came out. They were both going to need her to be the voice of reason when the inevitable confrontation went down.

It was not going to be pretty when Steve found out…not if his reaction so far was anything to go by.

Oh man, what were they going to do once they got to Seoul?

As though on cue, Clint was calling back from the cockpit.

"Incoming on Seoul, guys," he informed them sedately, "we'll be in sight of Dr. Cho's lab in a few minutes."

Almost immediately Nadine's face had cleared, her gaze sharpening with focus as she stood.

This, Natasha realized with a faint chill, was what it meant to be a Red Room Recruit; she knew because she was the same way. Clint called it her 'game face.' She'd just never seen it appear on another face before…at least, not in a very long time.

Had she not seen with her own eyes just how close Nadine had been to a complete breakdown only moments before, she never would've believed it now.

Without a word Nadine was efficiently collecting the rest of her gear, slipping on her pale jacket and adjusting her belt and holsters. As Natasha did the same, slipping her gloves on after a final check that her sidearms and batons were still securely in place, she kept a close eye on her sister, wary of any cracks in the blonde's emotional armour.

There were none. Nadine was completely focused on the task at hand.

Just like they'd been trained.

There was just the faintest troubled shadow lingering behind her sharp grey eyes to betray what waited beneath her once again impeccable control.

Glancing over to Steve where he'd moved up to the cockpit for a final check-in with Clint, Natasha noted that the same sort of determined focus had come over the Captain.

Well, at least there was some hope they'd at least be able to work together for the time being.

With a nod at Clint, Steve re-joined Natasha and Nadine in the main cabin. He didn't even spare Nadine a glance, Natasha noticed with dismay. Hurt flickered in the blonde assassin's grey eyes before being quickly secreted away.

So much for that hope…

"We have a job to do," Steve said brusquely, "and we can't afford to be distracted by…personal issues." Natasha fought to keep from flinching; the subtext was clear. "I'll head in on the ground on Recon, checking in with Dr. Cho. Romanoff, you'll be my backup if it comes to a fight, but for now you'll be our eyes from here. Barton, you're our way out and our cover." It was only then that he glanced to Nadine. "You'll stay on the Quinjet. Keep working on tracking down Ultron's base." Had she been anyone else, Natasha was sure Nadine would've flinched at Steve's unmistakably censured tone. Had she been more herself, Natasha was sure the blonde would have bristled at being so bluntly dismissed. Instead she merely nodded sedately, her unreadable gaze watching the Captain.

"Steve," Natasha broke in, alarmed at the call, "if Ultron's down there and it comes down to a fight, we'll need her on the ground. We can't take Ultron just the two of us." Steve didn't look at her, already striding toward the boarding ramp as he adjusted his gloves before grabbing up his shield and helmet.

"What we need to do is keep him from the Cradle. If he's down there, I'll keep him distracted while you and Barton secure it." It was a fair enough plan. He might not be an equal match for Ultron by any means, but Steve would be enough of one to keep him busy. But still…a lot could go wrong…and they had another fighter who could help.

"He's not going to be alone, Rogers. Regardless of what Ultron spilled, having someone else as backup—" Barton tried to reason warily, but Steve cut him off.

"We'll manage. We always do," Natasha stared at the Captain incredulously.

"Steve, c'mon. You trust me and I trust her; I trust her motives. Nadine—"

"You've earned my trust, Romanoff," he broke in authoritatively, fixing Natasha with a hard look, "She hasn't. She stays on the Quinjet. I can't have people I can't trust at my back. None of us can."

There was no missing the way Nadine tensed at the hard tone of his declaration.

Or the pain flashing in her quickly averted eyes.

As much as it pained Natasha to admit it, there was no arguing with Steve over this. She shot Nadine an apologetic look as the Captain prepared for Barton to drop him over the U-Gen facility.

But the blonde appeared unaffected by the tension, calmly retaking her seat in front of the console she'd been sitting at before her secrets and her carefully constructed life had started unraveling around her.

Natasha knew better. She knew the mask her sister wore.

She knew what it hid.

Steve's comment about trust had cut deep. Deeper than the blonde had expected.

But they had a job to do and none of them could afford to be anything but focused. So no matter how desperately she wanted to reach out to her sister, Nat knew now was very much not the right time. So she drew on her training just as her sister had done, locking what had happened away where it wouldn't affect her focus on the mission at hand. It meant effectively acting as though none of it had happened, as though two of the most important people in her life hadn't just had an emotional bombshell dropped on their heads. Like her sister's life hadn't just been torn irrevocably apart.

But if that's what it took to keep her teammates from getting killed?

So be it.

They could figure it all out later, she reminded herself as she returned to her own seat even as Steve leapt from the carefully hovering Quinjet to the roof of the U-Gen building.

Now it was just a matter of making sure everyone made it to 'later.'

And to do that, Ultron needed to be stopped.

God, this was such a mess…


	42. Chapter 41

**Seoul, Korea**

**Spring 2015**

It was all falling apart.

No, it  _had_  fallen apart.

What had they done…

Despite her brother's comforting arm around her shoulders and his affected expression of confidence, she knew he was feeling the same thing: they had made a huge mistake.

Ultron was going to destroy everything.

She'd seen it in his dreams, vivid and horrifying and unmistakable.

They never should have helped him.

They never should have  _trusted_  him.

This was so much worse than either of them could've dreamed.

And Wanda had no idea what to do next. It wasn't quite helping either that Pietro kept looking to her both in concern and for guidance.

He was the confident one, but he was also brash and reckless and he was well aware of it. She was the rational one, the cautious, circumspect and decisive one even if she wasn't quite so decisive as he was. He almost always deferred to her judgement and her ideas on the truly important things, his confidence giving her confidence. Yet, for all that he quite often joked between them that she was the brains, he was no slouch himself. He just didn't often apply himself to working out real solutions when they found themselves in trouble…which was rather often, if she was being honest. However, he wasn't afraid to challenge her decisions either. Though when he objected to her decisions, it was usually for good reason.

But he hadn't objected to working with Ultron. He had jumped headfirst after the robot's offer just as she had.

And now they were paying the price.

Everyone was going to pay the price.

Unless they did something to stop it.

She did have some ideas there…but she wasn't sure how well they'd be received.

One thought she couldn't shake was that they had to get back to Sokovia. Wanda glanced to Pietro again. That, he would undoubtedly be on board with. They had to return to Novi Grad and retrieve Nina. She knew Pietro would agree to that wholeheartedly, his unacknowledged crush on the pretty blonde nonwithstanding.

It was the next step she wasn't sure he'd be willing to go along with.

They had to make contact with the Avengers.

He was going to hate that idea. She wasn't too fond of it herself, if she was being completely truthful, but she honestly saw no other viable options. They had no choice. Whether Ultron admitted it or not, the Avengers were his biggest threat. It was why he'd been so eager to get her and Pietro and their animosity for Stark and his companions on his side; she hadn't needed to be able to read his mind to figure that out.

Therefore, the Avengers were their—and the world's—best chance to beat Ultron. They had to find them, to share what they knew and—if the team would let them—help them take the robot down.

And that was also where Nina came in.

Whether Wanda liked it or not.

Because whether she wanted to admit it or not, Wanda had come to realize that the Avengers  _had_  been looking for Nina back when they'd taken Strucker's base. She hadn't been sure that day—the fragments of thoughts she'd gleaned from Strucker and the dark-eyed woman had been too random and too disjointed to get a proper context to sort through them—but after Johannesburg?

In her task to mess with their minds, Wanda had also inevitably gotten a glimpse into the thoughts of the Avengers.

But it had only been after Johannesburg, after her migraine had faded and she had recovered from what Hawkeye's fancy electrified arrow had done to her, that she'd finally had a chance to put the few pieces she had together.

Rykova? The woman Strucker and the woman had been talking about? The one the Avengers had brought with them?

She was The Ghost, the one Ultron had been so amused to see was still working with the Avengers. Looking into Black Widow and Captain America's minds had only solidified that conclusion.

And had left her with another wrenching realization.

If Rykova was The Ghost…that meant she was Nina's mother.

It was a realization that left Wanda feeling cold whenever she came back to it. In trying to help Nina, they'd kept her from her mom, a woman desperate to find her child.

A child who had been stolen from her by a man with dangerous plans.

What sort of monsters were they?

She hadn't told Pietro yet. He was so protective of the blonde girl. The idea that in their determination to help her they'd inadvertently been doing the complete opposite? She could hardly bear the thought of putting that weight on his shoulders right now.

Not when Nina was currently little more than Ultron's hostage; she didn't think he quite realized that, yet either.

He would only blame himself.

But she knew she had to. She couldn't keep it from him, much as she would like to. Especially when she had a feeling it might be the only thing that would convince him to throw in with the Avengers.

Because he very much wasn't going to like the idea.

For one thing, her twin was proud. Very proud. It was going to chafe for him to admit to anyone but her that they'd been wrong about Ultron. And asking to join the Avengers to bring the robot down would be tantamount to admitting just that.

Not to mention he still very much viewed Stark as their enemy. To admit their mistake to an enemy?

He was still so  _angry_  at Stark. Oh, she was too, but she was also more pragmatic than her brother. She knew that their grudge against the billionaire was going to have to be set aside if they were to have any hope of stopping Ultron…

Their vengeance could wait.

Or perhaps surrendering their vengeance was the price they'd have to pay in order to fix their mistake.

Because they would have to pay a price. She was no fool. She  _knew_  that. And if that price was letting go of their desire to make Stark pay for what they'd suffered? If the alternative was letting Ultron destroy the world?

It was a price she'd pay gladly.

She didn't want to be a monster.

But first they either needed to find a way out of Seoul or a way to contact the Avengers. She needed to have that figured out before she broke her realization to her twin. She needed the support a well-thought out plan would provide.

And therein lay her main problem.

They were in Korea—half-a-world away from where they needed to be—with no resources, no friends…nothing save each other and their abilities.

Even if they knew how to reach them, they didn't have a means of contacting the Avengers in the first place, and they certainly didn't have a way to get back to Sokovia.

They were stuck.

She supposed she could use her abilities to get them access to whatever they needed…but she was hesitant to do that now, what with the weight of their actions at Ultron's side pressing down on her. Especially since they had no idea where to go. Sokovia was the logical place; Nina was there, and if they had her—and her inevitable support on their side as a character witness—the Avengers might be more open to dealing with the Twins themselves. But as much as Wanda wanted to get Nina, they didn't know how much time they had.

If they couldn't stop Ultron, after all, what good would there be in going to get Nina.

They'd all die anyway, and the strong-willed blonde still might not be reunited with her mother.

No, as much as she hated the decision, since leaving Nina in Sokovia meant leaving her with Ultron, they had to look to stopping Ultron first.

And that meant going after the Avengers.

She knew they had their fancy Tower in New York City. It was the first place she'd thought of.

But then…if they weren't there? That was a setback they wouldn't be able to afford. The Avengers were sure to be scouring the globe looking for Ultron. They were not going to stop in their mission to take him down. Her mental manipulations would mess with their minds, badly, but it wouldn't keep them down for long. She wasn't cruel enough to damage even their minds permanently. Eventually they would regroup.

They likely already had if she was being honest. The ones she had encountered had clearly had strong minds…and all of them had already been used to living with their demons; she'd just brought those demons to the surface where they couldn't be ignored.

That she had discerned easily enough when she'd gotten into their heads.

No, they'd recover quickly enough. At the time she'd been vaguely disappointed that would be the case but had been satisfied that enough damage would be done regardless.

Now she was rather grateful for it…

"He said there was a Quinjet approaching." Wanda nearly started at her brother's low, grim tone. As she glanced up at him, his expression was far more serious than she'd seen in a long time…and that was saying something. But then what he'd said registered and her eyes widened as the pieces began to fall into place.

"The Avengers are  _here_ ," she murmured, her head unconsciously tilting as she sank into thought. Pietro's eyes narrowed minutely, but he didn't interrupt. It was then that she realized he had already come to the same conclusion she had been contemplating when he'd interrupted her thoughts. He wasn't stupid. Her eyes focused intently on her twin. She nearly flinched when he tensed.

"Pietro—"

"They'll never want to work with us."

"We have to try!"

"After everything we've done? You got into their minds, knocking them on their asses! You set the Hulk loose in a  _city_!" This time she actually did flinch, causing an expression of apology to appear in her twin's eyes. He hadn't intended to sound accusing; he'd just been trying to point out the facts. And he was right. She had done those things.

But she didn't drop his equally intent gaze.

"They're our best chance to stop Ultron," she countered softly. He scoffed, finally breaking eye contact. She nearly let out a sigh of relief at the tell: he was beginning to cave. Life went on as usual around them in the street market they'd disappeared into, the few people out and about virtually oblivious to the two siblings where they stood in the middle of the street.

"We have things they need. For one, we know where Ultron's base is! We can bargain with them," she pressed, reaching out to grip his sleeve. He stared straight ahead, his thoughts racing behind his conflicted blue-green gaze as he stared without seeing at the people passing around them. But he didn't shrug her off.

"And what about after?" Her eyes burned uncomfortably as the edges of her vision began to blur at the resigned cast to his voice. She sighed.

"If Ultron isn't stopped? There won't be an after, Pietro," she reminded him sadly. He looked down at her, the overwhelmed expression on his face matching the way she was feeling perfectly.

"It's our fault," he said softly, miserably, as he ran a tired hand over his face and through his wind-tousled hair. Wanda nodded.

"And we need to fix it."

"And for that we need the Avengers," he said bitterly, echoing her earlier thoughts and the point he hadn't let her make directly moments before. She nodded again. He shot her a skeptical look.

"We need to find them first, you know. If they're even here—"

"They are," Wanda interrupted confidently. Ultron had been too concerned about the Quinjet for it not to be them. Pietro grimaced faintly but continued as though she hadn't interrupted.

"This is a big city, Wanda. I'm fast, but that's a lot of ground to cover…and they have a Quinjet! We don't even know if we'd be able to find them—they could be anywhere by now—" But a flash of movement and a bold white and blue headline she couldn't read had appeared on the screen of the TV one of the market vendors had set up in the corner of his food stall. Her grip tightened, tugging on her twin's arm to get his attention. Immediately he was following her wide-eyed gaze to see what had caught her sudden attention.

Captain America was fighting Ultron atop a U-Gen truck right there on the grainy screen.

Well, they now knew where to find the Avengers…

Wanda's eyes snapped to her twin.

"You can—" she didn't even need to finish her question before Pietro nodded sharply and swept her up.

She'd barely even registered he'd started running before he was setting her down in the middle of a train car.

And then he was crashing into Ultron faster than she could blink, throwing the robot bodily off Captain Rogers. But he was immediately out of anywhere to go, forcing him to a sudden stop in the front corner of the train car as he spun awkwardly to face Ultron almost before Wanda could process that their former ally was there.

Before she could even think to react she was reacting. As Ultron turned to advance on Pietro she was using her own powers to wrench the car's racking down into a crimson-swathed barrier that glowed between her brother and the robot.

Not that she had any illusions that Ultron wouldn't be capable of tearing through it like paper if he wanted to.

The robot turned, his decidedly wretched red eyes fixing on her.

"Please," he said softly, nearly sounding like he was pleading, "don't do this."

"What choice do we have," Wanda countered bitterly, unable to keep her true feelings to herself; her regret, her anger, her feelings of betrayal.

Evidently the feeling was mutual and, with a dark look Ultron spun, the searing streaks of his concussive beams shooting from his fingers toward the front of the train, narrowly missing Pietro, who only managed to duck out of the way thanks to his enhanced reflexes.

The train lurched and as Wanda struggled to keep her balance, Ultron blasted the sliding doors next to him clean away and launched himself free from the train.

Leaving them on a train that was quickly careening out of control. As Captain Rogers bolted for the control cab, Pietro had zipped to Wanda's side, reaching anxiously out for her with a questioning expression creasing his features. Nodding that she was alright, Wanda reached for him too.

Only for the train to lurch violently again as it crashed through the barrier at the end of the tracks. As the Twins regained their feet they couldn't help the panicked look that passed between them as the train shuddered and screeched, throwing its screaming passengers bodily around the cars as it hurtled on with no sign of slowing down.

Wanda couldn't even think as she clutched Pietro's arm. Dread burrowed through her chest, clawing up her throat as it paralysed her next to her rattled twin. But before either of them could manage to snap out of their shock, Captain Rogers had reappeared, levelling them both with measuring looks before indisputably taking charge, barking out instructions.

"Civilians in our path," he said with a pointed glance to Pietro. Pietro didn't argue or even hesitate, merely nodding sharply in understanding before dashing away with a final reassuring squeeze of her fingers. Already the Captain was turning to Wanda.

"Can you stop this thing?" Wanda looked to the Captain with a start; her heart started thundering in her chest as she registered what he'd said.

Could she?

She'd never manipulated anything that big before.

The Captain didn't wait for an answer either way as at that moment the train lurched viciously again as it crashed through carts and vehicles in its path. Even as he steadied a woman next to him as she was nearly thrown from her feet, he caught sight of a quickly approaching building.

Wanda's heart jumped to her throat in terror as the Captain leapt into action, rushing into the cab just in time to use his shield as a barrier as the train smashed through the brick-clad building front. Debris flew through the gaping hole Ultron had punched through the front of the train, the Captain's shield barely managing to protect the interior of the car and its passengers from the worst of it.

But Wanda nearly cried out as a huge chunk of metal and concrete crashed into him, the force of the impact sending the Captain flying back into the main car where he fell still.

Just barely keeping her balance, the train heaving and screaming as it surged through the building, she gathered her nerve and marshalled her powers. She  _had_  to do this. She  _had_  to stop the train.

She would stop it, she declared to herself as her body began to tingle with pent-up energy as she called on everything she had, a scarlet nimbus forming around her as she unleashed her power, seizing hold of the train's wheels with every ounce of willpower she had, as though she could drag it to a stop with her bare hands.

She would stop it.

She had to.

* * *


	43. Chapter 42

**Seoul, Korea**

**Spring 2015**

With a final, grinding screech the train stopped.

And Steve felt like he was allowed to breathe again. It was one disaster averted. Not that it felt like they were making any real headway in that department. Not in the slightest. They might have the Cradle, and they might still be alive—winning the battle, as it were—but they were far from winning the war.

And now Ultron had Nat. Silently Steve cursed, helpless anger threatening his composure in concert with a sudden, crushing wave of fear for his friend's safety.

Who knew what Ultron would do to her.

Especially considering how they had just thwarted his plans for acquiring a new body…a very, very advanced and powerful new body.

He was not going to be pleased. Ultron was going to be furious.

No, he was going to be vengeful.

Steve groaned, his hand fisting to pound lightly on the console as he forcibly reined in his emotions. They needed to stay focused. He needed to stay focused—as though that wasn't hard enough already, right now—and he needed to stay as objective as he could. And so far, he'd been failing. Badly.

Why had he convinced himself that ordering Nadine to sit out was the best plan!

This was all on him, and he knew it. He'd let his emotions make him irrational and convince him it was logic. He punched the console more forcefully, cracking the plastic and further mangling the already contorted metal panel underneath.

They needed to find Ultron and stop him. And to do that, they needed to find his base. That was the mission, now. That was the priority. As much as he wanted to find Nat—and Nina, because no only did no one deserve to be at Ultron's mercy, but he had promised to help get the girl back; something he was still determined to do despite everything going on with her mother—they had to focus on the big picture.

And hopefully, in dealing with the bigger problem, finding Nat would come along with it. Hopefully, in finding Ultron's base, they'd find Nat and Nina too; two birds, one stone. Hopefully Nadine was still up to the task on her own. Even as angry as he was with the blonde assassin, Steve was still practical enough to know they still needed her. He was practical enough to know she was their way to Ultron.

And that wasn't even counting the way he'd been starting to feel toward her personally. The way he'd been coming to count her as a friend.

As much as the dark, irrational part of him felt that he'd gone easy on her when Ultron had revealed what she'd done, the rest of him was hoping that his behaviour toward her hadn't completely pushed her away.

She'd been stung by the things he'd said, by his decision to force her out of the mission. He knew it. She hadn't been able to hide it completely. And at the time he'd been grimly pleased. Now? He was afraid he'd burned that bridge.

He was afraid he'd burned her.

Would she still be in New York when he managed to rendezvous with the Team? Or would she break away to find her daughter on her own, believing that her secret had turned them against her? He  _knew_ she didn't trust easily—he couldn't help but think the why was now abundantly clear—and he knew he'd all but shattered that trust with his reaction. And he had no idea how to fix it.

Why would she stay after the reception her secret had received, Steve couldn't help but think bitterly. And the part of him that knew he'd overstepped wouldn't exactly blame her.

Which meant their best chance for tracking down Ultron had likely walked out the door. He didn't know how to fix that either.

Although…Steve turned, looking back into the train.

The civilians on the train were trickling out of the mangled cars onto the torn-up street, understandably bowed and rattled by their ordeal. Steve couldn't help but flinch internally at the sight. They hadn't deserved to be dragged into this mess. But at least they'd saved as many as they could, he reminded himself pragmatically. That was the mission, after all; to protect and save as many as they could.

It could have been a lot worse. A whole lot worse.

If it hadn't been for the Maximoffs…

It was only now, now that the imminent danger had passed, that Steve was able to truly recognize the implications of their actions on the train.

The Twins had broken with Ultron.

That they had? It was a surprise. He wasn't quite sure though if it was a good one or not.

The fact that they had chosen to help him on the train, both against Ultron directly and in saving the civilians on board? They could've just run. Left. Saved themselves when it became apparent that the train was out of control.

They hadn't needed to show up in the first place.

But instead they had stayed. And they had helped him without question.

It had certainly been a nicer surprise than the last one…

On the other hand…that they'd broken with Ultron at all? That development heralded potentially larger and decidedly less pleasant surprise.

Somehow Ultron had pushed them away. Betrayed them, even, judging by the sister's comment earlier; though it hadn't sounded like the robot had believed so on the train. At the very least, Ultron had done something that had chased the Twins away regardless of whatever promises he'd made them.

And that could not bode well whichever way it was sliced.

But still…they had fought  _against_  Ultron on the train, which meant they were, at the very least, no longer his allies.

At the most? They were his enemies now too.

And it was very likely that Ultron now considered them as much even if they didn't.

Which meant the Avengers now had an opportunity, as objectionable as it might be to some of them considering the Team's history with the Twins.

He just needed to figure out if they were open to changing sides outright. But if they could get the Twins on their side for the inevitable final confrontation with the A.I.? It was worth a try at the very least. There was no doubt that they were going to need all the help they could get against Ultron. But it would be a potentially difficult task, that was for sure.

There was a lot of rage in the Twins toward the Avengers. Especially toward Tony.

But there was no getting around it. They were too valuable as potential allies to just walk away from, no matter how badly Steve wanted to do just that. Hell, part of him wanted to lock them away from all the damage they'd caused at Ultron's side, misguided, mislead or otherwise as they might have been.

But not only were their abilities potentially invaluable in this fight, but their knowledge definitely would be.

They would know where Ultron had set up shop.

And they knew Ultron. They'd worked alongside him, after all.

They might even know his endgame…that might even be what had driven them away from the robot.

He didn't see that they had any other choice. It wasn't an opportunity he could afford to ignore. With a heavy sigh he too stepped off the train, zeroing in on the siblings where they were reuniting not far away. There was no mistaking the concern on the sister's face as her brother determinedly waved off her hovering, his body shaking and heaving from exertion even as he sank wearily down onto the bench next to the table he'd been bracing himself against as he tried to catch his breath.

"I'm fine. I just need to take a minute," he overheard the Maximoff boy—Pietro, his memory reluctantly supplied—assuring his sister—Wanda—not that she seemed entirely convinced.

"I'm very tempted not to give you one." They both looked up to Steve as he spoke, their faces equally wary. Pietro's, he noticed, bore lingering traces of mistrust, the boy not even bothering to hide the way he was gauging the Captain as he approached. However, Wanda's was quickly overtaken with an insistent and worried expression.

"The Cradle, did you get it?" Steve frowned, nodding at the question.

"Stark will take care of it," he assured her, but his frown deepened at the way her eyes widened fractionally with alarm, a trace of panic appearing in them.

"No, he won't," she said softly, the certain way she said it admittedly unnerving him. Pietro, meanwhile, was glancing between his sister and Steve, his suspicious eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Steve nearly sighed, his patience just then thankfully holding out despite the strain the last several days—the last several hours, especially—had put it under.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he assured them both as best he could, his voice coming across as far calmer and more patient than he was feeling. "Stark's not crazy." Needless to say, the Twins did not look convinced, Wanda fixing him with an intent, knowing look.

But then, if Steve was being completely honest, he wasn't entirely convinced by what he'd said either.

"He will do anything to make things right," she insisted, her shrewd eyes boring into him. And darn it, if Steve wasn't already thinking the exact same thing, her insistence striking a chord in him. Tony  _would_  try to do whatever he could to fix the mistake he'd made. But would he really try to use the body Ultron had been making? The sinking feeling in his gut was answer enough. Tearing his attention from the Sokovian girl, he turned.

"Stark, come in. Stark." It was a long shot, hoping the Quinjet wasn't too far out of range yet…not that he was hopeful, but he had to try: "Anyone on comms?"

"Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it," Wanda Maximoff said softly, pulling his attention back to her even if he didn't turn back to the Twins, abandoning his attempt to make contact with his teammates. "Where do you think he gets that?"

Steve's gut clenched at the thought.

He turned back to the pair of them, levelling them both with a resolved look.

"I need to get back to New York." He paused, gauging each of them in turn before continuing, "are you coming with?" The brother's eyes narrowed suspiciously, looking like he wanted nothing more than to refuse. But he glanced to his sister anyway. Wanda meanwhile, looked faintly surprised that Steve had asked so openly. He had intended on easing toward the proposal, but he couldn't fight the sudden sense that they had no time to waste. There was no mistaking in her face that Wanda had every intention of agreeing. But nevertheless she turned to her twin, the pair of them conversing silently before turning back to Steve.

"Ultron's jet might still be at the airport," she offered by way of accepting, startling Steve enough that his eyes widened with it, his eyebrows raising. A hint of a grin appeared on Wanda's face as she took in his surprise in stride. "Without the Cradle, he'll have little use for it. It can take us to New York." Steve nodded once, regaining his professionalism.

"Then let's move," he concluded, beginning to do just that. But he was stopped by Pietro's sudden objection.

"No." Both Wanda and Steve glanced to Pietro at his firm declaration. "No, we have to go back to Novi Grad." He looked over to Steve with a glint of challenge in his eyes. "We have to go back to Sokovia first." Steve frowned.

"Why Novi Grad," he prompted, unsure where this was going, though an uneasy suspicion began forming in his gut. Pietro exchanged a wary glance with his sister. Though her expression was as wary as her brother's, she looked faintly unsettled…even remorseful. Steve's frown deepened.

"Ultron has his base there," Pietro said in Steve's direction as though it was perfectly obvious before he turned back to Wanda, "he still has her." Wanda looked stricken at Pietro's reminder, her guilt more pronounced, unable to meet either her twin or Steve's eye.

"He still has our friend," she repeated, finally looking over to Steve, "he still has—"

"Nina," Steve interrupted, earning startled looks from both of them. "Ultron still has Nina. Is she okay?"

"As okay as she can be, last we saw her," Pietro said uneasily, exchanging a glance with his sister. Steve frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Strucker had already started using the Sceptre on her when you attacked the base," Wanda said dully. Steve hesitated as an uneasy worry settled in his chest before he looked up at Wanda as she continued: "and now we betrayed Ultron." Pietro gave her an anxious look.

"He wouldn't hurt her!" Wanda shrugged dejectedly at the threads of uncertainty in her brother's assertion, looking sick.

"He's willing to destroy the world and everyone on it. There's no telling what he could do, what he will do."

Steve's eyes slid shut, dread dropping heavily into the pit of his stomach. That was exactly what he'd been afraid of, what Fury had predicted; Ultron's intention was to destroy everything.

"Then we need to get back to her! To get her away from him!" Pietro was nearly shouting as he leapt to his feet, his eyes intent and nearly sparking with emotion. His sister looked close to tears, but she held firm in the face of her twin's temper.

"We don't have time, Pietro," she said sadly, her tone just as insistent as his, "you think I want to leave her? We don't have a choice. We're running out of time to stop him!"

"He has one of my people too," Steve broke in then, causing the Twins to jerk their attention back to him. Pietro's expression was stony, but the same apprehension and alarm that had appeared on his twin's face flickered in his eyes. Steve sighed, unhooking and pulling his helmet off to card his fingers anxiously through his short hair before fixing Pietro with a sympathetic but firm look. "So as much as I understand your need to get Nina back, your sister is right. This is much bigger than Nina or Natasha. If Ultron wins? Everyone loses, whether we had managed to save his hostages or not."

Despite the dissenting expression on the Sokovian boy's face, Steve could see that Pietro knew he was right. Reluctantly the younger man nodded, not meeting Steve's eye. Though looking no happier about it, Wanda let out a faint sigh of relief, slipping her hand reassuringly into her twin's as she glanced up to Steve.

"What is the plan," she asked softly. Taking in both their expectant, though still wary faces as they both looked up to him, Steve slipped his helmet back on.

"We get to that jet. We regroup with the rest of the Team. Then we'll go from there."

It was somewhat easier said than done. Pietro was still wiped from his efforts during the train incident, so while still perfectly capable of moving far faster than the average person, he was still slower than he was usually capable, and he wasn't quite up to carrying Wanda along with him yet, not if he wanted to maintain his speed. Which meant that they needed an alternative to reach the airport quickly.

Not that the speedster settled for leaving everything to Steve and Wanda; they had barely made it out of the winding market streets when Pietro was blurring back to his sister and Steve's sides with a set of car keys in hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself despite the solemn, worried shadow lingering in his eyes. Wanda had groaned in dismay, but Steve hadn't been about to turn down the advantage of driving to the airport over running. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd made use of a 'borrowed' car, after all.

Though Pietro was rather put out when Steve insisted on driving.

Mercifully, they reached the airport in good time. More than that, while not the Quinjet, the plane that Ultron had left waiting was far more than just a standard private jet. Nearly as high-tech and advanced as the Avenger's Quinjet, Steve suspected it was likely a HYDRA asset that the robot had adopted from Strucker, the jet being rather reminiscent of a S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet.

Finding it hadn't been a problem, but getting to the jet and getting the clearance to leave were a little trickier. Pietro's speed and Wanda's telepathic-manipulative abilities certainly proved their worth in overcoming those hurdles.

While not strictly trained as a pilot himself, Steve had picked up enough from his time with S.H.I.E.L.D.—not to mention a measure of tutelage from Barton and Nat since—that he was more than able to get the former HYDRA Quinjet in the air.

Soon enough they were well on their way to New York.

With the autopilot set, Steve finally allowed himself to relax a little. After all, even with the jet's impressive speed capabilities, it was still going to take time to make it halfway around the world.

Besides, he needed to speak to the Twins. Discussing Ultron and what they knew was certainly high on the list of things he needed to bring up, but there was something he needed to get out of the way first. Something Wanda had said when they were talking about Nina that just wasn't leaving him alone.

Out in the main cabin, the Twins were sitting facing each other on opposite ends of the far bank of seats, each lost to their own thoughts. Pietro was lounged in a deceptively casual way against the bulkhead behind him, his long legs stretched out in front of him to prop on the seat next to his sister as his arms crossed loosely over his chest; not that the relaxed way he sat entirely hid the tension visible across his shoulders or written on his face. Wanda, meanwhile, had curled in on herself, hugging her torso tightly as she nibbled distractedly on her thumbnail. Her own legs, bent up in front of her with her crimson shawl draped over them like a blanket, were intertwined with her brother's. Steve noted that she had changed, her different outfit confirming his suspicion that the jet had been how the Twins had been ferried along around the world with Ultron.

They both looked up as he approached, Wanda uncurling slightly while Pietro's gaze once again grew suspicious and wary. Steve ignored it, glancing between the two of them with an assessing look of his own as he took a seat across from them, dropping his helmet next to him.

"You said Strucker had already begun his experiments on Nina when we showed up. Did they take?" The Twins looked faintly startled by his quiet question at first, glancing to each other with matching expressions of bewilderment; it was obvious they hadn't been expecting him to ask about Nina. They were probably expecting to be interrogated about Ultron. That would come later, of course, but right now he wanted them to clarify what they'd meant about Nina first. What Wanda had said was bothering him. Something wasn't adding up.

Wanda glanced warily back to the Captain, looking on the verge of answering, but it was Pietro who spoke first, his eyes narrowing further, as though daring Steve to react badly.

"She hasn't shown signs, but she's still alive. So it's likely."

"It's possible," Wanda amended with an admonishing glance at her twin. Pietro shot her a faint glare.

"We haven't seen her in days," Pietro broke in irritably, his expression almost accusing, "she might have by now."

"But Ultron—" Pietro scoffed, interrupting her as he sat up sharply.

"And you're so sure he would've told us? Considering what we—"

"Why would he have kept it from us? He trusted us right up until we turned on him!"

"But he was lying to us the whole time! He didn't tell us what he was going to—"

"That wasn't lying, Pietro! You heard him in the Lab. He couldn't understand why we were so upset!"

"But he was keeping it from us! How do you know he wasn't keeping Nin—"

"Guys!" Steve finally broke in sharply, his voice rising to get their attention. Wanda sighed heavily, her forehead falling to her hand as her eyes glimmered wetly in the low light. Pietro sank against the bulkhead again, resuming his sullen, distracted examination of the seatback to his right. Steve withheld a sigh of his own, surveying the both of them.

"What do you mean," he prompted, drawing their attention back to him and what they'd been explaining before they'd been side-tracked by their bickering; yet they still somehow weren't quite so bad as Tony when he really got going… "Because she's still alive?" Wanda hesitated before explaining.

"The Sceptre killed everyone Strucker used it on," she paused, glancing to her brother again, a resigned look in her eyes, "everyone except us."

"And now Nina," Pietro added softly. Slowly Steve nodded as he processed the information, his gut clenching painfully at the idea that Nadine's daughter could just as easily have died from what Strucker had done to her.

"So because it didn't kill her," he clarified, looking to Wanda, who seemed much more open to answering his questions—reluctant was the best word to describe Pietro as he glared at the Captain, "it's likely Strucker's experiments worked on her." Wanda shrugged.

"She hasn't shown any signs yet…"

Steve frowned. "So maybe not?" Wanda shrugged again, an unhappy sound escaping her throat as she picked absently at the edge of her shawl.

"We don't know. At first, I was sure…Strucker was certain the experiments would work on her—that's why he wanted her specifically—but something should have manifested by now. By this time with us? Our powers had started…showing." Steve leaned back in his seat, his hand rising to rest against his chin in thought as his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"Why did Strucker want Nina so badly? Why was he so sure the experiments would work on her," Steve murmured distractedly, trying to puzzle it out. He felt like the answer was on the tip of his tongue, like there was something, some connection he just hadn't put together yet. Why go to all that trouble for one girl, especially considering who her mother was? Could it be so simple as who her mother was? Had Strucker wondered if some of Nadine's Enhancement had been passed to her daughter? Some trait that would make her more likely to survive the Sceptre's power?

That their brand of Enhancement could be inherited was something Steve hadn't really considered before, even all those years ago before he'd gone into the ice, when he'd allowed himself to imagine a possible future with Peggy. Could Nadine's Enhancement—and by extension his own—be passed on to the next generation? It had affected them right down to their genetic make-up, so far as he'd understood it when Erskine had explained the process. So, would the serum's effects on him go so far as to affect any future children? Would Nadine's Treatments have done the same?

He caught Wanda frowning over at him out of the corner of his eye, her expression transparently perplexed as she looked to Steve. Her brother had turned his attention back to her, looking just as uncomprehending as Steve at his twin's reaction to Steve's rhetorical query.

"Strucker wanted Nina because her parents were Enhanced," she said slowly, as though bewildered that he didn't already know as much. "He wanted to know if she'd inherited any of it from them and if it would allow her to survive the Sceptre's energy where a normal person's system was usually completely overwhelmed and burned out by it." Steve started, barely registering that most of what she'd said echoed his private musings as one particular thing caught his attention.

"Wait, parents? Both Nina's parents were Enhanced?" Wanda looked just as startled at his question as Steve felt when she'd said it, her brow creasing in confusion over her widened blue-green eyes as she nodded.

"You—you don't know? But her mother, Nina's mother…she was with you in Sokovia. In Johannesburg!" Across from her, her brother started, his jaw clenching even as he paled as his twin's words sunk in.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" It was hissed low enough that he obviously hadn't intended for the Captain to hear, but Steve heard anyway. Wanda looked stricken, but her own jaw stayed as firm as the resolve in her eyes.

"I was going to, Pietro, but—" she trailed off, gesturing absently toward Steve. It seemed answer enough.

"When?" She sighed at the terse question, clearly knowing what he meant even if Steve didn't.

"I didn't figure it out—I didn't put it together until after South Africa," she admitted softly, "and then Ultron—nothing else seemed quite as important when we found out what he…" She paused, obviously needing a moment to regain her composure before continuing. "I didn't realize Rykova and The Ghost—her mother—were the same person until then, until I saw it in the Avengers' heads," she finished apologetically with a slight tilt of her head in Steve's direction. Pietro glanced over to Steve, who was already looking away to allow them the illusion of privacy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy nod, still looking far from happy, but at least satisfied with his sister's explanation. Steve glanced up at them. His gut churned, and he suddenly got the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like the answer to the question he knew he had to ask next…the feeling like he already knew the answer.

"So you know who her mother is…what about her father?" Wanda's blinked, still seeming unsettled that he didn't already know judging by the way her bow furrowed as she answered.

"Strucker wanted Nina because she's the child of the Ghost and the Winter Soldier."

Steve felt himself go cold as the Maximoff girl's words sunk in.

Nina was Bucky's daughter?

His  _daughter_.

Something hard and angry and protective began vibrating in Steve's chest at the revelation, making it physically hard to breathe. Did Bucky know? His mind raced to process it, struggling to make sense of the new information. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his head fell to his hands.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach; part of him wasn't at all surprised. Part of him had already put the pieces together.

He just hadn't wanted to see it. The feeling like he couldn't breathe was back in full force.

It changed everything.

But did it really? Did it really change what Nadine had done? Did it change how he felt about her keeping such a monumental secret—including this, apparently—from the team…from  _him_? His fingers curled, fisting tight against his leather-clad palms.

 _Yes_ , a small, rational corner of his mind insisted,  _it does change everything_. Nadine hadn't kept her past with Bucky a secret for her own benefit…

…But to protect her daughter…

…From the very thing that had happened to the girl…

Strucker had targeted Nina  _because_  of her parentage, after all.

More than that, the same irritatingly rational voice was finally able to point out now that Steve was paying attention, Nadine likely didn't even know about  _his_  history with Bucky. It was not widely known, after all, that Bucky and the Winter Soldier were one and the same. To her, Steve was likely just an unconnected party when it came to Bucky and his past. She probably had no reason to believe it would be personal for him, the rational little voice insisted. So why would she have felt the need to tell him? She was only just beginning to trust him, after all…a trust he'd thrown back in her face…

Steve's jaw clenched as his reason and his steadfast sense of morality began to further chip away at his anger toward the blonde assassin. He sighed heavily, his hands falling to fist tightly between his knees as he forced himself to breathe.

He had to hear Nadine out now.

If she was even still around.

He was still furious that it had been kept from him, but now he knew he had to hear the whole story.

Then he would make up his mind about how to feel about her choice to keep her history with Bucky a secret.

Because despite what he'd said on the Quinjet, she  _had_  earned his trust. She'd stayed after Johannesburg. She'd stayed to help them even when she had a chance at finding her daughter. She'd kept helping them. Even on the Quinjet, when Ultron had begun spilling her secrets, she hadn't even paused in her determination to find him. Not even to try and stop him.

Even if the revelation of her secret history with Bucky had fractured the growing trust he'd had in her, Steve still felt he owed her that much.

Especially after the way he'd behaved on the Quinjet.

He'd gone too far and he knew it. He may have felt ill and hurt and betrayed because of what Ultron had revealed about Nadine and his oldest friend, but there had been no mistaking that the same words that had burned him had utterly devastated her.

He'd then callously rubbed salt in the wound.

He'd wanted her to hurt just as he was…

And she'd taken his cold reproach—mild as it may have seemed to him at the time compared to how he'd felt—without protest or complaint. She believed she deserved it, he realized, his gut twisting painfully.

No, at the very least she deserved the chance to explain.

Then he'd decide how to proceed from there.

But no matter how things ultimately fell out between him and the blonde assassin, Steve now definitely had a renewed motivation to want Nina found safe and sound.

He owed her—and Bucky—that much.

But first they had to get back to New York.

First, they had to take out Ultron.

Or it wouldn't just be Nina getting hurt.


	44. Chapter 43

**New York City, USA**

**Spring 2015**

She wasn't entirely sure why she was sticking around anymore. She wasn't much use to anyone, it seemed.

She hadn't been able to keep her daughter safe; she wasn't trusted enough to fight; she wasn't getting anywhere with her searches…if anything she was a liability on that front…

…She'd lost Natasha…

Arguably, of course, there wasn't anything she could've done for her sister, and Natasha would probably be the first in line to make sure she was very well aware of that fact. But that didn't stop her from feeling responsible for her little sister being taken by Ultron.

She had just  _watched_.

She wouldn't have thought it, but it somehow felt worse than not being there.

…No…that felt just as bad…

It was just a different sort of bad.

Still, she should have  _done_  something!

But at the same time, her analytical side, honed by years of training and experience, told her that as soon as Ultron had grabbed Natasha, there was nothing she could've done.

It was why, when her gun had materialized in her hand as Ultron latched onto Natasha's foot, Nadine hadn't pulled the trigger. Had she fired at the robot, not only would she have pissed him off more—he'd already proven impervious to gunfire, after all—she would've risked hitting her sister.

No, she was berating herself instead for not being prepared for something like that to happen. She should have been ready for Ultron to try something like that. It didn't matter that the Cradle barrelling through the air toward her had thrown her off balance—figuratively and literally—she should have been better prepared. She shouldn't have been drawing her gun only when Ultron appeared in the mouth of the Quinjet to snatch away her sister.

She shouldn't have been on that Quinjet… A furious sob tried to claw out of her chest. Of all the times not to challenge Rogers when he decided to give her an order…of all the times not to simply do what she felt she had to do…

But no. She'd second-guessed herself when she'd seen the chance to get on the ground herself, to potentially  _help_. She'd stayed on the Quinjet where she was next to useless. She'd let Ultron get in her head. And she'd let Rogers' reaction shake her.

She was off her game.

And she was terrified that it might just have gotten her sister killed.

She forced down the horrified tremor building beneath her ribcage.

First Nina and now Natasha? Why couldn't she seem to do enough to keep her family safe?!

On top of it, now the rest of the Avengers were going to be turning on her if Captain Rogers' reaction to just part of her most closely guarded secret coming out was any indication.

And she didn't have Natasha in her corner at the moment to back her up, either…her head dropped to her hands.

This was just getting worse all the time.

Natasha had been right. Nadine bit back a groan. Her little sister had been urging her to tell the team the whole of her suspicions about why Strucker had wanted Nina…and by extension about her history with the Winter Soldier.

In hindsight she should have. The reaction could hardly have been worse than the one she got on the Quinjet. At least had she been the one telling it, she could have framed it better, breaking her secret gently rather than having Ultron spring it on her companions in the bluntest, most horrible way possible.

She'd been so focused on the idea that keeping her daughter's paternity such a closely guarded secret was the surest way of keeping Nina safe. She's been too sure that was the only way. She'd been so sure that she'd needed to keep it secret even from those who were helping her. Looking back now? Well, they didn't say hindsight was 20/20 for nothing.

She should have told the Avengers when Natasha had urged her to. How much of this mess could've been averted if she had? Perhaps Rogers wouldn't have turned on her so spectacularly if she had—not that she could blame him, really—and she would've been on the ground with them in Seoul. Perhaps Natasha wouldn't have been taken if Nadine hadn't been confined to the Quinjet…

…Perhaps she would've been taken instead of her sister…

God, there were so many 'what ifs' and 'should have dones,' especially in the last couple days. Had she not been so determined to keep herself so separate? Had she not been so secretive? So distrusting? So much might have played out differently.

Yeah, they might not have let her tag along at all, a bitter, pessimistic little part of her drawled.

Nadine groaned.

There really was no knowing now.

There was no telling how the Avengers would've reacted had she shared the more damning shades in her past in telling them the whole truth of Nina's appeal to Strucker.

Could've ended up playing out better…could've been far worse…

Though, considering the way Steve had been looking at her? She wasn't sure how much worse it could've been.

She couldn't get the look on his face or the things he'd said out of her mind.

And he hadn't been wrong.

What was he going to think when it came out that the Winter Soldier was Nina's father?

Neither could she understand why it was affecting her so badly. So what if the Captain wanted to condemn her for a mistake she'd made years before—a horrible, horrible mistake, to be sure—but still a mistake made by a much younger Nadine…by Nadya. She wasn't Nadya anymore. She'd learned to live with what she'd done. What did it matter what Rogers thought of her? The only opinions she truly cared about were her sister's and her daughter's. Her sister, she knew, understood what had happened all those years before and didn't hold it against her, much to Nadine's immense shock and greater relief.

Another part of her shuddered at the idea of Nina ever finding out…her sweet, light-hearted  _solnyshko_ …she couldn't bear to think how her little girl would take the revelation of who her father was or the circumstances surrounding her conception; it would break her heart…dim her cheerful brightness. How would she ever be able to look at Nadine the same way again once she found out the truth? Nadine's heart felt on the verge of shattering all over again at the mere thought.

It didn't matter what anyone else thought. It shouldn't.

But for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, it did matter.

She'd grown to respect the Captain a great deal. She admired him even, and, dare she say it, she'd grown to trust him. And that most certainly did not come easy for her. He was a good man, a good  _person_. He cared when most people wouldn't spare a second thought. She'd met precious few people like that in her life.

The idea that he could think so poorly of her?

It stung. No, it didn't sting…it  _hurt_.

It validated that hateful little part of her she'd tried so hard to ignore and bury for so many years that insisted she was nothing more than a monster for what she'd done, who she was. She was an assassin; a killer. She wasn't an Avenger; she had no illusions to the contrary. She was a realist. She didn't belong with them. She had just needed their help…her sister's help.

Once she had her daughter back, she'd be out of their lives and they'd be glad of it, no doubt.

Save Natasha. Nadine's shoulders sagged further as the beginnings of a sob tried to take root in her chest. Her little sister would be upset to see her go. But there was no going back into hiding, not to the specific life she'd been hiding in, at least. So perhaps she could somehow keep Natasha in her life. Because she was finding she wanted that. Very much. The clenching in her chest eased.

If they all got out of this alive, of course.

And the tremoring ache was once again intensifying.

They needed to get Natasha back. And Nadine needed to find Nina. Then it would all be okay. She could handle whatever fallout Rogers decided to rain down on her for keeping her secrets; she couldn't say she regretted keeping them. Not entirely. They had done their job. They had kept Nina safe her whole life.

It was only because the secret had been spilled that her daughter's life had been put in danger.

No, she would take whatever came and she would endure the fallout. So long as she got her family back safe.

That was all she cared about.

Nadine looked back up to the monitor in front of her, biting back a miserable moan.

Ultron was stonewalling her. He knew it was her chasing after him still, even after the stunt he'd pulled on the Quinjet.

And somehow he knew his move to spill her secret had worked. And he was rubbing it in every time he managed to head off her efforts to trace him or his base.

The video stared back at her…again.

Of all the things they had to have video of…why couldn't it have been of her and Natasha when they took the Winter Soldier down? That she admittedly wouldn't have minded seeing…but this one? The reminder of the horrible thing she'd done? Of what she'd done to him? Of how she'd been played?

Ultron was taunting her. Tormenting her.

She couldn't escape it, no matter the blocks or the firewalls she erected to try and keep Ultron from throwing it in her face over and over again.

And God…it wasn't even just that, anymore.

Every time she changed tactics, methods, approaches, even once she and Barton had made it back to the Tower, he was always one step ahead of her. No matter what she did, he was always already there. And almost as soon as she was shutting down Ultron's windows into her secrets to keep pressing on, the robot was opening more, flooding the screen with details from her past.

But she worked through it, ignoring the windows of documents she'd used to hide herself, of displays telling her he was beginning to upload details of her covers to different agencies around the world, starting to link her life to that of The Ghost.

It didn't matter, she kept reminding herself. She'd build new covers when this was over. She'd start over. None of it mattered. Not when he still had Nina. One small silver lining was that he'd left her financials alone so far…and from what she was glimpsing as she chased him, he didn't have her Workshop yet; but she very much suspected 'Nadine Ryker' was toast.

But if she could find Nina and Nat? It would be worth the loss.

The only thing she feared anymore was for Ultron to realize the surest way to get her off his trail was to use Nina against her. To threaten her daughter's safety…or her life. Thankfully, so far he seemed to be either above using her daughter against her, or he hadn't entirely realized it was an option.

If he began to make threats against Nina? Nadine shuddered involuntarily.

But it was a risk she'd had to take if she was to have any hope of getting her daughter back.

She didn't have any other options but to gamble that he had bigger things to think about than Nina. Honestly, part of her wasn't even sure why he was bothering to taunt her. Surely just evading her attempts to trace him would've been enough.

Whatever his motivations, though, she wasn't going to be capable of keeping this up for much longer. Even if Ultron was still effectively toying with her, now that he was starting to dump her life onto the Internet? He was quickly growing tired of his game. It wasn't going to be long now before he truly did start threatening Nina, the practical, strategic side of her warned anxiously. It was an inevitable eventuality that she knew in her gut was fast approaching.

But until that happened, she needed to press on. It was all she could do. And she needed to  _do_  something.

One thing had been made abundantly clear by this exercise, though: in order to beat him, they were going to need to purge him from the Internet…and Nadine couldn't help but think that was going to be impossible.

And as she looked to the video of her and the Winter Soldier again, it was also clear that she was never going to escape that either.

She'd been so foolish…so naïve to think she'd gotten away with it…

Of course she hadn't. Hell, looking back?

She should have known then that it was a set up. Or at the very least, she should have realized there were no such things as secrets in the Red Room. Her last conversation with Madame B should have been more than enough to make that fact abundantly clear.

Thinking on it now, with hindsight on her side? She couldn't help but wonder if they'd known more than just that she'd had sex with him.

She couldn't help but wonder if, somehow, someone in the Red Room had figured out she had been pregnant when she left.

It would explain how someone had managed to find her despite all her work to prevent just that. She had admittedly been banking on Nina's very existence being an additional layer of protection. A means of hiding in and of itself.

Red Room recruits didn't have babies, after all—capable or not.

But if someone in the Red Room had figured out that she'd been pregnant? It would do just the opposite. It would've made finding her—them—easier. It was the only explanation that made sense.

She'd been so stupid.

She should've known someone there would've figured it out.

It was a facility of Master Spies, after all…

Which meant it was her fault that Nina had been taken twice over. Thrice? She'd lost count at this point.

She looked up to the video, transfixed by the way the Winter Soldier's arm gleamed in the low light. Strucker wouldn't have been able to resist knowing the blood of the Winter Soldier—the ultimate HYDRA Asset—ran in her daughter's veins. So in a way, it was unwittingly his fault too, she couldn't help but think bitterly. After all, he was just as Enhanced as she was…far more so, even.

Self-loathing and reproach immediately swamped her at the utterly callous, repulsive thought, tasting bile as her stomach churned that she had even dared think it. No. None of this was his fault.

It was all on her.

Nadine's head fell to her hands as she suddenly struggled to rein in her emotions again. She hadn't felt the guilt and remorse like this in years—but then, her moment of weakness in trying to pin at least a little of the blame on the Winter Soldier certainly didn't help there. Neither did the existence of that horrible surveillance.

A gentle, hesitant touch brushed against her shoulder. Nadine jerked, barely restraining her reflex to lash out. Barton grinned thinly, holding up his hands in peace before sobering as he caught sight of what was displayed on the monitor in front of her.

Realizing the video was still playing, Nadine quickly shut it down with a few snapping keystrokes, trying—and admittedly failing—to hide her panicked urgency to do so. Of course, Barton knew—there was no way he didn't considering that he'd been on the Quinjet with her, Natasha and the Captain—but because he'd been piloting, he hadn't  _seen_  the evidence. Well, he'd had a glimpse now…

"Who else knows," he asked softly.

"Besides the four of us and apparently Ultron," she clarified dully. Barton nodded, not that she was looking at him to see it. She couldn't bear to look up and see the reproach in the eyes of yet another person she'd begun tentatively considering a friend. Her eyes were fixed instead on the blank screen where the video had been playing only a moment before, her features drawn and nearly pained. "Natasha figured it out back then, already. But as for who else, I can guess—most of the handful I can think of are dead, thank God—but I can't know for sure." She turned to Barton, her gaze suddenly desperate and tormented, visibly unnerving the archer, "you can't tell anyone, Barton. My daughter was targeted because of this. It's why I fought so hard to keep it secret, to keep her safe—"

"Your daughter," Clint broke in abruptly, unable to hide his surprised bewilderment that the blonde assassin was suddenly bringing up her daughter. Nadine's mouth snapped shut as she realized what she'd just done.

She saw the instant it clicked.

Nadine could feel the blood draining from her face to pool in a hard, roiling lump in the pit of her stomach. Barton stared at her in astonishment.

"Holy sh—Nina…she's—she's…" But he couldn't quite get himself to say it when he noticed the way Nadine's face had grown ashen upon realizing her slip. He finally just gestured to the blank screen, his own expression questioning. There was no mistaking his silent question.

After a long, tense moment, Nadine nodded, suddenly feeling all but utterly broken as she confirmed that he'd guessed her most closely held secret. Everything really and truly was falling apart. Even her hard-earned skills as a master spy were failing her.

"Well shit," he muttered, his arms crossing as one hand lifted to pass across his mouth, further muffling his voice. "That sure complicates things." Nadine's head fell to her hands again.

"I know," she muttered back, "I'm not sure why, but it does. It makes everything worse."

"Worse?" Barton's genuinely confused tone had her looking up to him dejectedly, not understanding his reaction.

"What I did," she clarified listlessly, gesturing limply to the blank screen just as he had. Barton frowned.

"How does that make it worse? You mean by keeping it a secret?" He paused, but not long enough for her to even nod in response, likely reading in her eyes that she meant to do exactly that. "Maybe I'm missing something, but with Nina's safety on the line? If the reason Strucker went after her was because of…that? You had a damn good reason to keep what happened in that place a secret." Nadine's gaze snapped up to him, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He couldn't possibly be saying… He sighed, coming to lean against the desk next to where she sat, his arms crossing as a thoughtful look passed over his face. "Yeah, it looks bad—it's certainly not good, what happened between you and him—but from what little I know from Nat about that place? You weren't exactly given many options to work with." Emotion clogged Nadine's throat. She couldn't hold the archer's bold, earnest gaze, her vision beginning to blur traitorously.

His hand landed heavily on her shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly as she fought to regain control of herself.

After a moment she straightened, shooting him a small, tentative smile of thanks. Smiling sympathetically himself, Barton nodded in approval, straightening himself as he pushed off from the edge of the desk.

"Now, what do you say we track down Nat, Nina and the metal bastard holding them hostage." Nadine sighed unhappily, her semi-bolstered mood already fading.

"That's all I've been working on since we got back. But Ultron's always one step ahead of me." Barton nodded stoically before glancing to her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Tell me; what sorts of old school spy stuff did they teach you in the Red Room?" Nadine blinked only once before it hit her. She groaned.

Why hadn't she thought of that?


	45. Chapter 44

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

Nina was sure something was wrong.

She hadn't heard from the Twins in over a day. Neither had Ultron passed along any messages like he'd been doing since he and the Twins first left on their missions.

The last she'd heard was that Wanda had woken up and was doing much better after being attacked by one of the Avengers. Nina had barely believed it when Ultron had told her the news that the Avengers had ambushed them during their mission to South Africa and that Wanda had been injured.

Despite everything she'd heard from the Twins and Ultron, Nina still hadn't been able to reconcile the idea that the Avengers were as bad as they seemed to think. It had to be a misunderstanding. Even now, she was sure there was more to it—like what had Ultron and the Twins been doing when Wanda was attacked? The robot had been rather evasive on that score.

Nina knew she was sheltered and naïve—these past few days had made that abundantly clear—but she wasn't  _that_  naïve…

But with what little she did know about the Avengers—even Stark, who the Twins blamed for their parents' deaths and for the dark turn their lives had taken in the days following, who they hated with a passion—she simply could not wrap her head around the idea that they could be bad guys.

They'd saved the world from  _aliens_!

…Though, hearing about Wanda had admittedly caused her to waver in that conviction even if only slightly.

The Twins had been her rocks, her support, through everything that had happened since she'd been snatched from outside her front door. They'd looked after her, protected her and helped her as best they could after whatever it was Strucker had done to her. They hadn't had to do any of it. They could've just left her behind when the base was attacked, but they didn't. She was like them now…probably…maybe… Nina just wasn't sure. She didn't think she felt any different or Enhanced or anything. She just felt weak and tired and she hated it! But Enhanced or not, in the Twins' minds, that she'd endured what they had meant they had to stick together. To protect one another.

More than that, they'd become her friends.

And she'd never had many of those. Not real ones. It made that friendship all the more precious to her.

Pietro always managed to make her smile between his brash antics and surprisingly genuine moments of sweetness. Wanda made her feel safe, and the brunette was easy to talk to. She somehow never left Nina feeling like she was being stupid or weak or deficient even when she felt very much so. They had both listened to her fears without judgement, really, and neither had downplayed that seriousness of what had happened to her. Neither had brushed off how hard recovery or simply living with what had happened would be with patronizing platitudes that she would've known were false. Save the knowledge that all of Strucker's other test subjects had died during the Baron's experiments—an omission she understood completely in retrospect, given how terrified she's already been when she'd found out what had happened to her—they hadn't kept anything from her. She may not have known them long, but she had come to trust them implicitly.

After all, she was one of them, now.

Ultron, however? It was hard to tell sometimes with his mechanical features and body language, no matter how human he seemed at times, but Nina was certain he wasn't telling her something. Something big.

Something had happened.

Her gut churned unhappily at the idea. Especially when she kept catching him watching her with unreadable looks…it was so much harder to read the static features of his sentries than the far more animated, human-like features of his main body. She'd felt uneasy about the human-like robot right from the beginning—there was something unnatural and extremely unsettling about him that she just couldn't shake—but she'd figured that was the fever's influence. Or the fact that she'd never met a living robot before. The Twins seemed to trust him, though. So she had convinced herself he would just take some getting used to.

But now? The feeling had only gotten worse the more she recovered.

And she couldn't help the feeling that he was looking at her now with traces of suspicion.

Just for what, she couldn't even begin to guess. She'd been here, in the bowels of Strucker's fortress since he'd brought her and the Twins back to the base in the first place. She'd barely even left the little storage room he'd had made up for her to sleep and keep recuperating in.

Up until a few hours ago, she hadn't been capable of doing much else.

What on earth could he be suspecting her of doing?

Regardless, at least she was starting to feel like herself again. Her fever had finally broken and, though she was still feeling drained and exhausted, the aches that had plagued her every move and the wicked, searing headache that had lingered deep in her skull were finally easing. For the first time in ages she felt like she could actually think straight without her mind and her focus wandering aimlessly away from her.

And didn't that leave her mind free to open the door on her latent panic and worry.

Sure, she was finally, truly worrying about the implications of what had been done to her without the haze of pain and fevered disorientation dulling the feelings, and sure she was beginning to worry about just what the Twins had gotten themselves—and by extension, her—into, but what she was really worrying about for the first time since this had all started was her mom.

She had to be an absolute wreck by now. Oh, she'd probably be hiding it well enough. Her mom was incredibly adept at hiding her real feelings from everyone, after all. Nina wasn't too bad at seeing through it for the most part—an added bonus from growing up around the ballet mistress—but even she couldn't manage to read her mom sometimes.

But this?

Nadine Ryker was a woman who didn't settle for sitting back and waiting when something was wrong. She was wickedly clever, resourceful and always seemed to have the perfect answer or the best solution to any problem.

But what could a ballet mistress do in a situation like this? Had it been a normal kidnapping? The police would've been called and there would've been no way her mom would let them so much as take a coffee break until she was found. Hell, Nadine would probably manage to do the police's job for them in her drive to get them to work harder, Nina considered wryly. It was just the kind of woman she was.

But in this world of Enhancements and Enhanced people? Despite that rather problematic complication, Nina had no doubt her mom would be doing anything and everything she could to find her. But she was going to be so far out of her league. Nadine Ryker was a formidable woman, there was no doubt about that, but what could a ballet mistress do in a world of living robots and Avengers?

She had to be looking for someone to help, someone who was a part of this world, Nina decided. It was the only possible course of action she could come up with. As fiercely independent as she was, Nina knew her mom was far too pragmatic to simply blunder headfirst after her. She would know better than to underestimate whom she'd be up against as soon as she realized the men who had taken Nina hadn't been working for 'normal' people. Nadine would've enlisted someone who could help, who would know how to navigate this world of supervillains and superheroes.

Maybe she'd even track down a superhero to help her. Nina nearly smiled at the thought; her mom had always rolled her eyes at the notions of 'superheroes', regardless of her healthy respect for the Avengers and others like them. 'There's nothing super about building a suit or being a fancy science experiment'—her mom had grumbled on more than one occasion when hearing people raving about superheroes—'you don't have to have special powers to do what's right…to complete the mission. It's not the powers that make the hero.'

Perhaps she'd even manage to enlist the Avengers, Nina thought wryly only to scoff with amusement at the thought. As driven as her mom was, Nina didn't think that idea was entirely plausible. How did one even contact the Avengers? Although…part of Nina wouldn't put it past her mom to try…

Well, super or not, Avengers or not, Nina had begun to wish that someone would show up…even if just for the company; she was beginning to think she was losing her mind with nothing to occupy herself with save her worries, her dread and her fears.

It was all decidedly horrible.

As her strength had begun to return and her mind cleared of its fuzziness, Nina had dared to venture out beyond her little room, looking for distraction from the chaos that was quickly threatening to overtake her thoughts. Naturally, one of Ultron's less sophisticated selves had trailed her the entire time. She had convinced herself at the time that he'd been just looking out for her, making sure she didn't overexert herself. As it had generally left her alone to wander the veritable robot factory the base had become, it had been an almost believable idea. He had even answered her questions when she'd had them…for the most part.

But there had still been something…off. Something about his behaviour she hadn't quite been able to pin to friendly concern. Her mom had raised her to use her head, after all, to pay attention to details. She wasn't quite so naïve not to recognize when he'd been evasive or when he'd deflected her questions outright. Or when he'd begun herding her back to the little room, insisting he was concerned that she'd done too much too soon in her recovery process and had worn herself out.

She'd been perfectly fine.

Though he hadn't forbidden her from venturing out into the base again—hadn't said a word about it, really—she nevertheless got the impression that she was not welcome to do so again. And after the mildly threatening undertone to his insistence that she return to her alcove to rest? She hadn't been able to muster the conviction to attempt it. Not still feeling as poorly she did.

It did not help her sense of unease, that was for sure.

So she was left to stew in her feelings of dread and worry, alone, in her little storeroom.

Only for every one of those feelings to intensify painfully when Ultron abruptly appeared to deposit a limp, unconscious woman at the entrance of Nina's makeshift room.

At first Nina thought the woman might be dead, her breath catching in her throat in panic at the very idea. Thankfully, almost immediately she realized the woman was still breathing, her pulse somewhat strong and regular when Nina darted forward to check as soon as Ultron walked away.

It was only once she had reassured herself that her new companion was indeed still alive that Nina took a good look at her.

She was really pretty, a little younger than her mom—though, Nina had never been the best judge about such things considering that her mom's appearance had never really matched her age—with vibrant, fox-red hair. She was on the petite side, probably shorter than Nina, but she looked strong—physically and otherwise—even when unconscious. In that respect, Nina mused, she seemed rather like Nadine; the ballet mistress was deceptively strong and physically fit despite her slender build. This woman was the same with her soft curves and slight frame.

She also looked vaguely familiar, but Nina couldn't quite seem to place how she recognized her.

What really intrigued Nina, though, was what she was wearing. It was some sort of tactical catsuit, virtually black with red accents and glowing blue piping limning her arms, legs and torso. She looked like some sort of super special agent. She even had a thick utility belt, complete with holsters on her hips that were obviously for sidearms, but they were conspicuously empty.

But it wasn't until Nina spotted the unmistakably familiar red hourglass symbol on her belt that the pieces finally clicked together.

This was Black Widow.

This woman was an Avenger.

Nina was crouching next to  _the_  Natasha Romanoff, the lone female Avenger.

What was going on?!

Then another thought hit her, distracting the young blonde from the famous hero next to her: Ultron Prime was back, so where were Pietro and Wanda? Her dread and fear deepened, twisting painfully in her stomach. Now she was getting genuinely scared for her friends…and herself, truth be told.

But even as her fear threatened to overwhelm her, she glanced down at the woman next to her, not even realizing she was looking for a distraction. Well, trying to help the unconscious Romanoff as best she could would certainly do the trick.

She considered trying to move the redheaded woman to the cot a couple metres away, but she'd barely gotten Black Widow rolled onto her side before she was reminded that her strength still hadn't entirely returned; she wasn't up to moving the other woman's deadweight just yet, petite frame or not. In a little while, perhaps, but for now she had to leave her where Ultron had set her down.

So instead she tugged the thin blanket from her cot, pillowing it beneath the unconscious woman's head before settling herself on the ground next to the redhead in unintentional vigil. Hugging her knees tight to her chest, she watched over her new companion almost without seeing, struggling to keep her troubled thoughts in check as she waited as patiently as she could for the Avenger to wake up.

Perhaps then she'd get some answers.

Ultron certainly wasn't supplying any, even when she tried talking to him, and just now Nina was far too anxious and intimidated by the robot to marshal her exhaustion-strained boldness to outright demand answers.

So she sat next to Romanoff, the chill from the rough stone floor seeping into her body while Ultron worked at one of his stations not far away, similarly keeping an eye on Black Widow and similarly not saying a word. Around them his sentries continued on with their work, ceaselessly filling the air with the harsh clanks and groans of machinery and the uncomfortable heat and acrid, stinging scents of molten metal and hot polymers.

She didn't know how long she waited, time seeming to freeze and blur as what must have been hours passed.

But eventually Romanoff began to stir.

"I wasn't sure you'd wake up." Nina jerked in surprise as Ultron's voice purred over to them. "I hoped you would, I wanted to show you something." Slowly the redhead pushed herself halfway to a sitting position as Ultron spoke, her attention wholly on him. A part of Nina was tempted to help the still disoriented woman, but another part of her insisted she stay rooted where she was, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach making her feel like she'd be safer if she didn't draw Ultron's attention, ridiculous as the instinct seemed.

"I could show Nina," Ultron glanced over to Natasha, his gleaming eyes flicking to Nina briefly before falling back down to his task, "but I have a feeling you'll be more…appreciative." In front of her, Romanoff tensed, turning slightly to glance at Nina. There was something in her green eyes that, oddly enough, comforted the young blonde as she met the Avenger's curious gaze; a softness, a glimmer of recognition. Ultron paid the exchange little mind.

As the robot started speaking again, the redhead was turning her attention back to him, her keen eyes quickly growing wary as a frown appeared on her face. Nina's own brow furrowed even as her eyes widened with bewilderment as Ultron began to wax poetic about the beauty of meteors and how beautiful and new and merciful he had planned on being, utterly confusing Nina.

He sounded like he wanted to be a twisted sort of god…

What did any of that have to do with anything?

What was going on?!

But then he paused, fixing Natasha with an intense look that had Nina nearly shrinking back as he paced slowly toward them both.

"Instead they'll look up in horror because of you. You've wounded me. I give you full marks for that." Nina's skin prickled in apprehension even as Black Widow shifted beside her, easing closer, her green eyes narrowed and wary. Ultron looked down at them both, fixing them in his penetrating glowing glare. "But, like the man said, 'What doesn't kill me—'" Nina shrieked at the red-hot hand that shredded through Ultron's head. In a shower of sparks and molten scraps of metal, another burst through his chest, the pair of glowing hands tearing the robot's body apart to reveal a newer, bigger version of him standing behind, "'—just makes me stronger.'" Instantly Black Widow was scrambling back into the room behind them, shoving Nina along with her, just barely avoiding the metal wreckage raining and crashing down around them both, keeping herself between Nina and the crazy robot slowly advancing on them. Nina's heart jumped to her throat in terror.

Only for his claw-like grip to close around the bars of the little room's door, sliding it shut with a harsh clang…not that it was really a room anymore.

Now it was unmistakably a cell.

Next to her, Black Widow's mind was visibly racing, her green eyes sharpening as they took in the situation, their surroundings, the scraps of metal surrounding them.

"Oh, and if you're thinking of trying to escape, I wouldn't," Ultron droned, sounding nearly bored as he turned back to them, gesturing absently around. "There are only two of you and hundreds of me; just ask Nina." He paused again, his head tilting as an expression frightfully similar to amusement appeared on his face. "I'd thought about asking you to tell your 'Ghost' to stop trying to trace me, but you're here now, cut off from your friends, so I won't bother. She'll get the idea when I…reminder her of just who I have here with me." The words sent an inexplicable chill through Nina.

"Don't touch her," the Avenger snapped, her voice low and threatening as her arm lifted slightly as though to bar him from Nina, the gesture startling the young blonde enough that she jumped. Ultron chuckled.

"You think you could stop me? But very well. I want you to see this, so she might as well see it too. But Ryker better be careful. She's trying my patience, and there are only so many of her secrets I can spill to try and…convince her to leave me alone. If she pushes too far?" He glanced pointedly to Nina, his glowing eyes decidedly menacing. Instinctively Nina shrank back, her heart thrumming almost painfully in dread.

"She'll find you before that happens," Black Widow said softly back with a tone that nearly sounded dismissive…nearly. Ultron hummed, shooting the redhead an almost patronizing look.

"You think your so-called 'sister' will manage to find me? Perhaps. But while she may be the best out there at what she does, she's also a mother, Black Widow, and I have her mini-Ghost right here. With you." Nina couldn't help the tremors that were suddenly shivering through her as he walked away. He couldn't possibly be suggesting…

"What did he mean?" she asked, unable to help how small and uncertain her voice sounded. The redhead looked to her with a sympathetic expression in her green eyes before reaching out to pull Nina securely against her side. Despite having never met the woman—Black Widow!  _The_  Black Widow—before in her life, Nina burrowed into her embrace, grateful for the comfort as her mind whirred through and against Ultron's implications. She suddenly felt hollow, the implications pressing down on her like a great weight.

"I'm afraid there's a lot you don't know about your mom, sweetie," Black Widow murmured almost dryly as she gently stroked Nina's hair.

As Nina's trembling began to ease, Romanoff gently patted her arm before pulling away, shifting carefully around the cell. Nina watched her, growing more curious despite herself as moments passed.

Anything to keep her mind from dwelling on the distressing threats Ultron had made.

And the even more distressing insinuations.

But for all her attentive, if distracted, curiosity, Nina was lost as to what Romanoff was doing. At least until the Avenger positioned herself next to the now lifeless head from Ultron's previous body, using her foot to surreptitiously nudge it just out of sight from anyone beyond the cell to sit beside the crate where she had deposited a collection of electronic parts. With a subtle gesture she waved Nina over, indicating for her to sit in such a way that it looked like she was leaning against Black Widow while also shielding the older woman's movements.

Not wasting a moment, the redhead was already beginning to pry apart the robot head, scavenging out parts and wires with skilled, efficient focus. Nina watched in fascination.

She was making a transponder of some sort. The Avenger glanced up, catching sight of the young blonde watching her avidly. With a small smirk, she pushed a hunk of robot circuitry into her hands.

"Do you know what a transceiver module looks like?" she murmured almost too quietly for Nina to hear. Mildly surprised by the question, Nina nodded. Black Widow smiled, a faintly impressed gleam in her eye. "Good. There should be one in there and I'm going to need it," she continued under her breath, covertly fishing out a fine, slender tool—which looked rather like a piece from a lock-picking kit—from the lining of her boot and handing it to Nina. With a small grin of thanks, Nina immediately set to work, the tool and her nimble fingers making short work of the bit of robot brain.

They worked in near silence for a time, each focused on their tasks and keeping a sharp ear out in case Ultron approached again to gloat some more.

As she handed the redhead the third component she'd been asked to harvest from the robot wreckage, Natasha eyed Nina for a moment, her gaze considering and thoughtful.

"So you're Nina," she finally said, turning back to the mass of wires and other components that was slowly beginning to resemble a passable transponder unit. Nina hesitated before nodding, admittedly puzzled by the fondness in the woman's voice. But her boldness was beginning to return the longer Ultron kept his distance, and she wasn't able to keep herself from blurting out the first question that popped into her head right then.

"You really know my mom?" Black Widow hesitated, her lips pursing at her apparent internal debate before she finally answered.

"I grew up with your mom, Nina," she said quietly, as a sad, nostalgic sort of almost-smile tugged at her lips. "I've known her since I was a little girl; she was my sister in all but blood, really. Had…had things been different? Growing up you probably would've known me as your Aunt Nat." Nina felt like she'd been kicked in the chest, she was so stunned. Her mom  _knew_  Black Widow? More than knew…had considered her a  _sister_?

"What? Why—why didn't she ever say anything," she burst out plaintively, sounding—certainly feeling— nearly hysterical as bewilderment crashed in on her. "The number of times we've talked about the Avengers? About you? You're my favourite!" Her mouth snapped shut, a dull flush rising to her cheeks. The older woman smirked as she gestured for the tool still in Nina's hand.

"Pass me that," she said sedately, tactfully ignoring Nina's awkward slip. Silently, Nina obliged, hugging her legs close to her body as if the move would help ease the growing, tremoring ache in her chest while Black Widow bent back to her work.

After a moment, a small, hiccupping sigh escaped the young blonde, her chin sinking to rest on her knees.

"Why did she never tell me?" she murmured despondently, unable to help the hurt and growing, angry heat pressing against her ribs, the feelings seeming to throb in time with her anxious pulse. It was far,  _far_  more than just disappointment at being denied knowledge that her mom knew her hero…it was that her mom had secrets Nina could never have even dreamed of.

That her mom had  _lied_  to her!

Black Widow gave her a sympathetic look.

"That's something you need to talk to her about," the redhead hedged gently, before pointedly meeting Nina's eye, "but I will say that everything she's done was done to protect you." Angry as she might suddenly feel at her mom for keeping this from her, it didn't stop the longing to see her again from rising up in her chest. As hurt and betrayed as she felt thanks to what both Ultron and Natasha had said?

She still just wanted her mom.

Nina sank into silence again, covertly dashing away the moisture trying to make its way down her cheeks as she watched the Avenger work, even if she wasn't really seeing it, anymore. Her mind was racing as it played over everything Ultron had said about her mom.

Her mom was looking for her. That one, simple fact did help ease the ache, even if just a little.

More than that, if what both Ultron and Black Widow—no, Natasha…after all she'd apparently almost been her adoptive aunt—if what they had said meant what she thought it did? Her mom was working  _with_  the Avengers!

But then the ache in her chest began to intensify again as the next thought emerged: did that mean her mom had been fighting against the Twins too? Nina's stomach churned at the idea…and the feeling only got worse…

If her mom was working with the Avengers…Ultron had called her 'The Ghost'…if she had a code name?

What other sorts of secrets had her mom been keeping from her?

Her stomach cramped uncomfortably. She was very much beginning to feel like she was going to be sick, the taste of bile beginning to coat her throat.

Especially considering the threatening things the robot had said about her mom too. Nina fought back a shudder of dread. Whatever he'd meant, it had sounded far from good.

Then again, most of what he'd said had sounded far from good.

Very far from it.

"What was he talking about, about meteors?" she asked softly, barely even realizing the question had slipped out until she heard her own voice. Natasha glanced up at her with a trace of surprise at the sudden enquiry before offering a shrug.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she murmured distractedly, her focus returning to the connection she was working on hot-wiring.

That did not make Nina feel any better.

She needed to stop thinking about it.

And one way to do that was to focus on helping Natasha get them out of here.

Next to her Natasha was making one final adjustment and check of her handiwork before starting it up.

It began to hum softly, drawing a satisfied glint to the Avenger's eyes. Glancing to Nina, Natasha subtly nodded over her shoulder.

"Keep an eye out?" Nodding silently in understanding, Nina shifted, angling herself so her could see the entrance to the cell as well as what the redhead was doing.

"This is really going to work?" Nina couldn't help but whisper, unable to keep the almost desperate hope from her voice. Natasha spared her a smirk as she began tapping out her message with the makeshift contact plates between her fingers.

"Your mom is one of the best in the world at finding people, sweetie. Between her and my friend Clint? They'll hear it. And they'll figure out where we are," the Avenger said softly. She reached over to brush a reassuring hand against Nina's arm before turning her full focus back to the task at hand, careful to keep her handiwork discreetly out of sight as she did.

And Nina let her, stubbornly holding back the thousand more questions struggling to break free as she hugged her knees tighter. They could wait.

Besides, if this idea of Black Widow's worked?

She could ask her mom her those questions soon enough.


	46. Chapter 45

**New York, USA**

**Spring 2015**

"Old school spy stuff…" he could hear her muttering to herself in disbelief.

Almost the instant Clint had mentioned it, Nadine had been on her feet, silently and not so silently scolding herself for being so narrow-minded.

He had considered asking if she needed a minute, suspecting that—like with Nat—the mild teasing might help get her back on track, but had decided against it. Nat, he knew, would've responded with a disparaging look, maybe an indignant glare, but would appreciate his intent to shift her focus from what was distracting her from the task at hand. However, he didn't know Nadine well enough to gauge if she'd take it in the good-natured spirit as intended or if she'd interpret it as pity or as a perception of weakness on her part. And if there was one thing he'd figured out about Nadine Ryker, it was that she did not like appearing weak; a holdover from her training, he suspected. Nat had been much the same way when he'd first met her.

"I'm so far off my game," she was muttering to herself as she and Clint started raiding Stark's workroom below the Main Lab. Clint was sure the billionaire had squirrelled away some old communications equipment somewhere; he was sure he'd seen it down here at one point.

Sure enough, it was all there, scattered around the room, a piece tucked here, another there, according to some Stark-ian organizational system that Clint hadn't quite made sense of yet. As Nadine found and pulled out a high-tech radio receiver—the last of the pieces of tech he'd been specifically searching for—he grinned at the fact that they both had the same sorts of methods in mind.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her self-addressed scolding, though. "Yeah, well, you do have a good excuse." She glared at him. He only laughed more openly. "Hey, it's not just you," he added, a grin still on his face, "believe it or not, this was Stark's idea, not mine." Nadine paused, shooting him an incredulous look.

"Stark? Really?" Clint nodded, not looking up from the transceiver he was adjusting.

"Yup. The Master of High-Tech himself. The one who is so far from being a spy you could call him the Anti-Spy." He grinned widely at the only partially stifled, giggling scoff that escaped the blonde assassin as she began working on amplifying the range of frequencies the receiver was going to have to scan for.

Maybe it was because he knew Natasha so well and because Ryker had ultimately had such similar training to his best friend, but Clint found it surprisingly easy to work with the blonde assassin. Not as easy as working with Natasha, of course, but the two of them still made a good team.

All things considered, the blonde was holding up surprisingly well. Clint couldn't help but covertly study Nadine as they worked. If it had been him? If it had been Cooper or Lila that had been taken? He wouldn't be holding up half so well.

But then, his background didn't have quite the same levels of intense training—meaning it hadn't quite been so do or die…literally—as Ryker and Nat's had been. Nadine's deceptively calm façade was likely just that: a façade. A bit like Nat's game face, really. There were moments, after all, when Clint was sure he'd just caught a glimpse of her inner turmoil on the verge of breaking through. Not that he could be sure.

He couldn't imagine what she was likely feeling just then…okay, he could  _imagine_ , but he very much suspected his imaginings fell far short of the reality.

Man, it hurt and infuriated him to even think that someone could try to take his kids.

She was definitely holding up far better than he would.

It wasn't at all long before their old-school equipment—Stark's hobby-tech, if he was being honest—was hot and he was beginning to scan for any hint that Natasha might be trying to contact them while Nadine began reaching out again to contacts, getting more eyes on the lookout and putting out feelers for any potential leads she could get.

But really, anything they did was a long shot. Who knew if the redheaded spy would even manage to gain access to what she'd need to even try and contact them from wherever Ultron had her secreted away.

Who knew if she was even in any condition to try…

But Natasha was impossibly resourceful and devilishly persistent and clever. If anyone could manage to get a communication past Ultron, it was going to be Black Widow.

All they had to do now was wait and hope that the net they were casting was wide enough to catch something.

So, boy, did it feel good when Clint started picking up a signal.

"Hey, Ryker?" Nadine looked up from her own set-up across the way from him, immediately perking up at his vindicated, crooked grin as he glanced up to her. At once she was up and around the worktable, picking up the second headset to listen. A grin of her own tugged at her lips as she met Clint's eye. Immediately Clint was moving to start up the trace he had planned. "That's our girl," He murmured to himself as he turned, reaching past Nadine to link in the channel Nat was on to the tracking equipment he and Ryker had set up. "You think you can keep Ultron busy while I get a trace going on this?"

Nadine was already smirking before he had even finished his question, though there was a definite shadow behind the expression.

"Easily," she muttered bitterly. He couldn't help but shoot her a sympathetic look as she passed to settle in front of the console near the entrance to the workroom. He had a pretty good idea what she was sitting down to, considering what he'd walked up to earlier: Ultron was blasting her with her secrets, toying with her even as he sought to distract her.

Within moments she had picked up where she'd left off when Barton had found her earlier.

"Alright, Hawkeye," she called as the barrage of Ultron's counter-attack began splashing across her screen. "Find her. Fast." Without hesitation, he obliged.

It went quickly, his algorithm working like a charm. Within moments it had narrowed Nat's location down from a continent to a country, to a city...

"How's it coming Barton?" Nadine prompted from across the room, sounding faintly strained.

"Almost there," he said with a preoccupied gesture, distracted as he focused on listening to the message Nat was in the middle of sending. Letting out a relieved breath as the message wrapped up before starting over, Clint glanced up to the blonde assassin. There was no question that she was going to be relieved by the message he'd just listened to.

Only to see the Captain and two young people who looked suspiciously like the Maximoff Twins marching purposefully past the workroom he and Ryker had holed up in as they headed for the Main Lab. He looked over to Nadine, who very obviously wasn't paying any attention to him anymore, her attention suddenly and wholly focused on the Maximoff Twins…

The Twins who had stolen her daughter out from under her nose…

The Twins who had then promptly and effectively handed her daughter over to Ultron…

The Twins who had threatened her sister and virtually torn apart the Team…

The Twins who were even now entering the Lab over her head…

Clint could practically see her emotions switching off as the Ghost woke up.

It took a great deal of effort to suppress the shudder that tried to go through him at the dangerously blank expression on the blonde woman's face.

Oh…this was going to be bad…

"Ryker, wait!" She didn't even react to his warning as she slipped from the workroom, her Glock sliding free of its holster to fit comfortably in her hand as she noiselessly followed the Captain and the Twins up to Stark's Lab. Not only was Bruce still upstairs with a chip on his shoulder from what the Maximoff sister had done to him and Hulk, but the Twins now also had a very angry and very desperate Mama Ghost tailing them.

There was no mistaking the intent look on her face.

She wanted her daughter back. And one way or another, The Ghost was going to get her answers.

Bad was quite possibly going to be a huge understatement.

Swearing quietly to himself, Clint too was jumping to his feet.

But not before catching a glimpse of the results from his back-trace of Nat's signal…of all the places…

Biting back an aggravated groan, he was hastily circling his workstation with the intention of following the blonde assassin.

Only for the sound of Rogers and Tony's raised voices to have him glancing up through the clear floor panels separating the workroom below from the Main Lab above.

Tempers were fast coming to a head up there, with Stark and Banner facing off across from Cap and the Maximoff Twins; an odd development, that was for sure. While not at all sure what it was specifically that had tempers running so high, he didn't need to be in on it to know that things were about to escalate very quickly.

Especially when he caught sight of Ryker easing up behind the Twins, her gun held ready in her hands and unmistakably trained on the pair of them.

And completely unnoticed by everyone but him, it seemed. Keeping a wary eye on what was going on upstairs, Barton activated the intercom between the Lab and the workroom. All at once he could hear exactly what his teammates were saying.

"You don't know what you're doing," Steve was declaring overhead as Barton eased around the dim workroom below until he was standing directly underneath the action, looking up again to the source of the muffled voices.

Banner merely shot the Captain a patronizing look. "And you do? She's not in your head?" Clint winced at the caustic tone coming from the normally mild-mannered doctor. The girl hesitated even as she stepped out from behind Steve, a conflicted look on her face as she tried to placate the furious doctor.

"I know you're angry—" Bruce nearly scoffed.

"Oh, we're way past that," he bit back, cutting her off sharply, "I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade. Not that I'm the one you should probably be worried about just now," he finished darkly with a jerking little nod over their shoulders. It was then that Clint realized the doctor had noticed Nadine's approach as well. Rogers and the Twins all spun to see what Banner was referring to, the Maximoff girl freezing as she caught sight of the gun trained unerringly on her. Next to her, her brother tensed, looking like he was about to intervene. But a sharp glance from his sister had him backing off, even if only minutely, leaving him visibly seething.

Rogers actually looked furious, his expression hard. It was something Clint wasn't quite sure he'd ever actually seen before. He groaned, reluctantly grabbing up a handgun of his own from the table nearby. With a practiced flick, he had the safety off and the firearm settled comfortably in his grip. This was definitely not going well.

"Ryker, stand down," Steve warned sharply. But Nadine didn't seem to pay him any attention, her steely gaze reserved solely for the Maximoff Twins. The girl slowly raised her hands in supplication.

"We didn't know—" she started to say, but Nadine sharply cut her off.

"You stole away my daughter and gave her to Ultron, little girl. I could pull this trigger without batting an eye. You're lucky I haven't yet. Don't test me." The girl blanched at the blonde's silky, deadly tone but still stood firm. It was a brave move even if it was rather ill-advised just then, Clint couldn't help but consider with respect and even a trace of amusement. Stark couldn't pay him enough to face down Ryker when the assassin wore the expression she was currently sporting. "Where is she?"

"Please, we only—"

"Where is Nina!" Nadine snapped, a trace of her desperate fury finally breaking through her cool, intent focus.

"We thought we were protecting her!" the younger woman snapped back just as sharply, her obvious fear clashing with a spark of anger that had her eyes flashing scarlet. Clint couldn't help his surprise at the unexpectedly conflicted expression suddenly crossing the brother's features as his sister spoke. They genuinely cared about Nina, the archer realized with a start. It was something Nadine didn't seem to notice, though, pointedly flicking off the safety on her Glock, her eyes flashing dangerously. The girl's mouth snapped shut at the look.

"Oh, I wouldn't go there," Banner was suddenly warning, his anger still very evident in his voice even as he eyed Nadine warily, "You're just giving her an excuse, now."

"Banner, after everything that's happened—" Steve broke in, obviously trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation, only for Tony to heatedly cut him off.

"That's nothing compared to what's coming," the billionaire insisted. The Maximoff girl turned, a blatantly disbelieving and almost despairing expression on her face.

"You don't know what's in there!" she cried, no longer paying any attention to the gun still pointed in her direction. For the first time since she'd caught sight of the Twins, Barton saw Nadine's Ghost façade falter, her brow furrowing faintly as she glanced to Stark. The barrel of her gun began to dip. Across the room, Tony looked incensed while Banner's jaw tightened. Steve was glaring at the pair of geniuses again, his face hard and intent.

"This isn't a game—" he snapped at the billionaire even as Wanda renewed her own protests, their raised voices blending before both were abruptly cut off.

"The creature—"

The brother had finally had enough, and in a blur and cascade of sparks and arcing flashes, the Lab was abruptly in shambles, the equipment and tech that had been hooked up to the Cradle having been ripped free from their interfaces. The Sokovian boy dropped the last cable in his hand with a pointed flourish, looking challengingly around the room.

"No, no. Go on. You were saying?"

He had stopped directly overhead of Clint.

And Clint reacted instinctively.

In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea, but the opportunity arose to take the brother out of the equation, and he took it.

With a single squeeze of the trigger, the glass overhead shattered right as the brother dropped the cable.

With an almost deafening crash, the Sokovian boy fell in a heap of limbs and glass at Clint's feet. The archer didn't waste a second, firmly planting his foot on the boy's thigh before he could overcome his surprise. He wasn't going anywhere.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" Fighting back a wince as Barton's foot dug into his leg, Pietro Maximoff glared up at the archer with a mix of surprise and fury.

And upstairs, everything went to Hell.


	47. Chapter 46

**New York, USA**

**Spring 2015**

No sooner had Hawkeye's shot rung out from the workroom below than everything descended into chaos.

Even as the sister cried out her brother's name in panic and warnings and alarms from whatever Stark and Banner had been doing began screaming around the Lab, Nadine was instinctively spinning toward the source of the shot.

For the span of half a heartbeat, no one seemed quite sure what to do. But then Stark was reacting, turning to the console behind him.

"I'm rerouting the upload." It was then that Nadine's attention truly snapped to the billionaire as comprehension crashed over her. Upload?! It was then that she finally understood what he and Banner had been doing; why Rogers was so adamant that they stop. Why he was so angry when she had appeared and hijacked the confrontation in the Lab. Current personal conflict or not, on this, it would seem Nadine and Rogers were of the same opinion.

Even as Stark was reaching for the keyboard, Nadine was reacting.

As a shot of her own rang out, perfectly punching a hole in the monitor in front of the billionaire, Rogers' shield was smashing its own path around the room, ricocheting from console to screen to console in a blinding shower of sparks.

But of course, just as Nadine and Rogers had reacted to Stark's declaration, the billionaire was reacting to their response. At once, pieces of his suit were soaring into the Lab, latching onto Stark. In a smooth motion, his face deadly serious, the billionaire had spun to the Captain, catching Rogers square in the chest with a repulsor beam. With a pained grunt Steve was knocked off his feet just as Stark was turning to Nadine.

Warned as she was by his attack on the Captain, the blonde assassin was already moving, just barely missing being hit by an energy pulse herself. But she wasn't quite fast enough, the impact of the pulse crashing into the huge cabinet behind her, sending its contents flying to clip her even as she dove out of the way, sending her sprawling.

Immediately she was rolling back to her feet, just in time to see Rogers leaping toward Stark, his fist slamming into the billionaire's chestplate just as Stark fired a unibeam blast at the Captain, sending both men careening away from the other. But as Nadine was coiling to go after Iron Man herself, the Maximoff girl broke the hold Banner had gotten on her, the scarlet, mist-like tendrils of her Enhancement flashing through her own body before she spun to blast him with another wave, sending the scientist stumbling back with a pained grunt.

Nadine froze, her eyes fixed on the doctor as he staggered, her heart suddenly in her throat in fear that he was about to go green; something she wasn't the only one concerned about, judging by the look on Barton's face across the lab, and the suddenly panicked look on the girl's.

Mercifully, the doctor merely slumped heavily against the equipment to his right, glaring up at the Maximoff girl.

But Nadine had already spun to face the young Sokovian, once again locking her sights on the girl. But Wanda Maximoff's hands were already raised in Nadine's direction, the scarlet nimbus dancing around her fingers as her grim eyes gleamed briefly red.

Only for them both to flinch back as a wave of electricity seemed to cascade through the lab, converging on Thor as he leapt atop the Cradle.

Before anyone could even react to the Asgardian's appearance, before Banner had even managed to bellow out his warning to wait, Thor was channelling a blast of lightning into the Cradle with a deafening, elemental roar as the bolts surged from his Hammer.

As the blinding light faded, the Lab was utterly silent.

And then the Cradle exploded.

Instinctively Nadine was twisting away, ducking behind her raised arms as chunks of metal were blasted throughout the room. And she wasn't the only one. Nearby the Maximoff girl flinched away as others around the room flung up arms against the projectiles. As she spun back to face the Cradle, her eyes blew wide.

It was a man lightly leaping from within the smoldering wreckage to perch on the foot of the Cradle, his body a striking mix of vibrant red skin and dully metallic patches. A glowing yellow point of light shone from the centre of his forehead—the gem Dr. Cho had warned them about. A primal brand of fear was suddenly welling in the pit of Nadine's stomach, her hands threatening to tremble as they tightened on her Glock. She couldn't even react. How was she supposed to react?! Slowly the man—could he even be called that?—stood, surveying first his hands then the room with wary fascination.

Only to leap at Thor.

Even as Nadine jerked in surprise, the Asgardian was deflecting the newborn android's attack, sending him careening toward the other end of the Tower.

The entire room seemed to react too late, no one knowing what to do.

But then everyone did react. Nearly everyone looked to Thor as he straightened, looking grimly satisfied. Rogers, on the other hand, leapt into action, vaulting from the Lab to where the Asgardian stood watching his creation. Only for the Viking-like Avenger to hold up a hand gesturing for the Captain to wait. Nadine's heart hammered in her chest as she and everyone else lingering in the Lab followed the Captain and the Asgardian out of the Lab. All eyes were on the red-skinned android, the trepidation and anxious anticipation shared between them all nearly tangible.

As Nadine came to a stop beside Bruce, barely even noticing as the Maximoff brother came to a blurring stop next to his sister, she couldn't help but stare as the android floated—floated!—back down toward them, his vibrantly-hued body now seemingly clad in a gunmetal grey suit as he landed lightly next to Thor.

This was too much.

Especially as, once he'd thanked the Asgardian, the android seemingly created a cape for himself reminiscent of Thor's own crimson mantle. Rogers was the first to recover his voice, though there was no mistaking the wary cast to it.

"Thor, you helped create this?" Nadine could barely wrap her head around what she was hearing as Thor explained, her eyes still fixed on the android. Impossibly destructive magical gems—Infinity Stones? Didn't they have enough on their plate already with Ultron? Not for the first time she was wondering what the Hell she'd gotten herself into by seeking out the Avengers…

But as Thor and his creation calmly countered his Team's fears, suggesting that the android was their key to beating Ultron, Nadine couldn't help the anxious consideration suddenly growing in her chest. And loath as she was to admit it—bearing in mind her personal objections to the Maximoff Twins at the moment—seeing the sister hesitate and reconsider her staunch objection to trusting the android nevertheless caused Nadine to pause. This thing could be the answer they'd all been looking for; a means to match Ultron. To  _beat_  him.

This…this could work.

Though she was just as floored as Banner when the scientist reeled at Thor declaring Stark's misguided idea to save the world hadn't been so misguided after all. And there was no denying the astonished little flutter when it was revealed that J.A.R.V.I.S. had managed to survive Ultron's attack and had evolved to become this…Vision.

Though a small, wary part of her still had doubts—something most of the others seemed to share—in hearing Thor's Vision out, they all had to cede, however reluctantly, that he indeed seemed to be on their side. He was on the side of life, as he stated quite conclusively. One by one, the android looked around the group surrounding him, his gaze jumping thoughtfully—even entreatingly, Nadine noticed with a jolt—from Hawkeye, around to Steve, Thor, Nadine herself, Banner and Stark and finally to the Twins. Nadine unconsciously tensed as his yellow eyes fell briefly on her.

But she had locked eyes with Ultron too, and there was nothing alike between them. Where Ultron's surprisingly emotive gaze had felt threatening and unnatural as he looked to her, there was something else to this new being's gaze that had her ready grip on her Glock loosening, her flinger sliding from the trigger. There was a measure of sincerity to this android's gaze that was far too human and far too natural to be affected. Though part of her was still wary, arguing that all her instincts when it came to reading people and discerning their intentions from subtle physical cues meant nothing when dealing with an artificial being, her instincts seemed to believe otherwise.

But then he was looking away, his gaze passing around to each of them in turn as he spoke, his voice soft and certain in his knowledge that Ultron held no such value on life: "He will end it all."

"What's he waiting for?" Nadine looked over to Rogers as he spoke, not even needing to see the grim acceptance on his face to know that he was reconsidering the android as well. They all were. Thor's Vision glanced to the Captain.

"You."

"Where?" It was obvious that Bruce was still reeling from this most recent development, his voice nearly hoarse with it. Well, it wasn't just him. It wasn't the android who answered, though. Instead Barton stepped forward glancing around to his teammates before landing for a brief, tense moment on the Twins.

"Sokovia. He's got Nat there too," he looked to Nadine, his expression softening. "And Nina. Nat's with her now. She's okay." Nadine visibly sagged in relief, her knees actually feeling weak the feeling was so powerful. Her daughter was alright. Nina was okay. She'd grown so used to the sick tension tightening in her belly out of worry for her little girl's safety that hearing those few words left her feeling lightheaded as it eased even slightly. A heavy hand landed on her back, Thor having stepped closer to steady her as she wavered on her feet. Somehow she managed a grateful smile for the Asgardian as she wrestled herself back under control.

She'd been so overcome by relief that she hadn't even noticed Banner stepping forward to confront the android, nor most of the artificial being's response. She looked up as he began moving, pacing past Rogers and Thor as he spoke.

"We have to act now," he paused for a moment, turning back to face the mingled Avengers and outsiders, "and not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster." Nadine's eyes narrowed in consideration as he hesitated again, looking thoughtfully down to his own hands. There was a self-awareness there, a circumspection, that gave her pause in what lingered of her distrust. "I don't think I'd know if I were one." There was a thread of truth there.

But a part of Nadine couldn't help but disagree; sometimes it was entirely possible for someone to realize they were a monster. At the very least, to recognize when one had done something monstrous. She could think of no other more appropriate word for some of the things she'd done. And judging by the varying looks of regret and remorse appearing on the faces around her, she was far from the only one. As her own gaze darted from face to face, recognizing similar feelings to the one trying to claw up her own throat at the android's innocent musing, it paused on Stark as she inadvertently caught his eye. Her heart clenched at the guilt and self-reproach mingling with barely restrained hope in his eyes. But then he looked sharply away, his expression hardening after allowing that small, unintentional glimpse of vulnerability. As it had on the Quinjet what suddenly felt like a lifetime ago, a faint sensation of kinship surfaced in the blonde assassin. A kinship that spread to encompass everyone standing around her.

They really all were broken in some way by things they'd done, weren't they.

Perhaps that was the defining bond that held the team together; they were all looking for some manner of redemption, so they were all seeking to earn it the best way they knew how; by protecting. By Avenging. If anything, she mused bitterly, the only one who hadn't done anything monstrous to earn redemption for was the android currently contemplating just that.

Thor's Vision dropped his hands, turning away from them.

"I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me." The purpose that flooded him then was unmistakable, something in his posture shifting as he turned back to them again, looking up to Thor— "but we need to go," —Mjolnir in his outstretched hand.

The Tower went so quiet Nadine could swear she heard her own heartbeat falter in shock, utterly unable to even react. She just stared at the artificial man. And she wasn't the only one. She had never seen the Avengers look so stunned.

Though, no one looked more startled than Thor as his Vision politely passed of the Hammer to the Asgardian before simply walking off.

He was also the first to recover, shooting them all a chipper little 'right' before following after the android he'd helped create. He paused only to offer a 'well done' and a pat on the shoulder to Stark, the gesture earning the Asgardian an astonished look from the billionaire. A soft, huffing little laugh escaped Nadine at that, her gaze jumping from Avenger to Avenger as she tried to process what had just happened.

She was crazy. She had to be going crazy, losing her mind out of overpowering relief and shock if she was seriously considering trusting the judgement of a magical hammer! And judging by the similarly disbelieving and utterly bewildered looks on her companions' faces, they were just as astonished as she was. Not simply by the android's handling of the Hammer, but by how they were all actually considering it a reasonable sign that they could trust the newborn being.

Maybe they were all crazy…

Naturally, Rogers was the next to recover, his own gaze surveying his team as his mind kicked back into gear, quickly absorbing the new development.

"Five minutes." All at once the atmosphere in the Tower shifted from surreal to sober as Rogers automatically fell into his role as the Captain. "Get what you need."


	48. Chapter 47

**New York, USA**

**Spring 2015**

Everyone was in complete agreement. There was no time to waste.

Nadine was no different. Her relief at hearing her daughter was okay had given way to a renewed determination to get her back. Immediately she had retreated to the workroom where she had been working with Barton to retrieve what things of hers she'd left down there before heading for the gear room where she'd left the rest.

But as she rounded the last corner before her destination, she caught sight of Barton somewhat reluctantly gesturing for the Maximoff Twins to follow him back toward the same room she was heading for. On impulse, she was zeroing in on the siblings, her mind locked on something she needed to do before she could allow herself to focus on the mission. She pointedly ignored the concerned frown that appeared on the Hawkeye's face as she passed his corner of the room, merely meeting his eye with an expression that clearly said not to interfere.

Walking soundlessly had long ago become second nature to Nadine, so it was child's play to approach the Maximoff brother without his notice.

Unnoticed, at least, until her hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him to face her and shoving him off-balance to slam back against the cabinet behind him.

Immediately he jerked defensively, only to freeze when he saw who it was, the anger flashing in his eyes quickly giving way to wary apprehension. Off to the side his sister started at the noise, jerking to face the threat with her hands already rising. But Nadine's gun was already in her hand again and fixed on the sister. Wisely, Wanda Maximoff froze, watching the blonde assassin where she had pinned her brother with wary anxiety.

Nadine just stared at Pietro Maximoff, her face carefully blank as her Ghost persona simmered just below the surface. She didn't even bother to hide that she was studying him closely. As he stared right back, there was no denying that he was virtually an open book.

The boy—and yes, she still considered him a boy; the Twins were just barely two years older than her own daughter, with a lot of maturing still before both of them—was brash, reckless and undoubtedly brave. He was defiantly meeting her hard scrutiny head on where many had been too intimidated to do so in the past, valiantly attempting to hide the fear her sudden appearance or her cool, impassive focus on him had sparked. But he couldn't quite hide it from her. She could see it like a shadow behind his blue-green eyes. She knew very well the effect she could have on a person when she allowed this side of herself to emerge. Grown men had quailed beneath her scrutiny, unnerved by her impassive stare as she studied them. She'd been trained to read and interpret even the smallest flashes of emotion, the merest twitches that could betray damning truths, honing and cultivating the skill over her years as the Ghost. She knew it was intimidating when she fell back on those skills, especially when she wore the hard, emotionless mask her training had taught her to hide her true self behind. And she was not afraid to use that knowledge to her advantage.

But, no matter that part of her wanted to ignore it, there was no mistaking the remorse or the conviction written on this boy's face as he boldly met her eye. Her eyes narrowed, her hand sliding pointedly from its harsh grip on his shoulder to the base of his throat, her fingertips ghosting over his pulse point.

"I am going to give you one chance," she finally said softly, not allowing her intent scrutiny to ease in the slightest, "and one alone to explain why you took my daughter from that base." Nadine felt his pulse begin to pick up as alarm flickered to life in his eyes. A grim satisfaction at the observation nearly caused her to grin. "So take a moment, and choose your words carefully." She leaned in as a brash exclamation nearly burst out of him, the pressure of her fingers on his throat increasing just enough that she knew he'd feel it. His teeth audibly clicked shut at the implied threat. "If I'm not satisfied with what you have to say…" she increased the pressure against his windpipe by another fraction, making her point clear with the soft click that echoed through the silent room as the safety on her Glock was flicked off. Pietro's eyes darted to the gun trained on his sister. A defiant glint appeared in his eyes, but he wasn't stupid. Nadine knew he could read in her eyes just how deadly serious she was. She was not bluffing, and he knew it. She nearly smirked, but settled for merely narrowing her eyes slightly in admonition instead; a more than adequate response.

"Don't count on your speed to save you, Maximoff," she warned, her tone hardening as she saw his eyes begin to glitter with calculation. She felt him swallow convulsively, his eyes darting down to her hand where it rested against his throat and over to his twin. "Your quicksilver reactions wouldn't be enough if I decide to kill you. And even if you can run faster than a bullet, are you willing to risk your sister's life on the slim chance you could slip away from me?" His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing briefly in challenge. She did grudgingly have to admire his spirit. "Now," she continued, easing the slight pressure on his throat, satisfied that her point had been made, "why did you take Nina?" He eyed her back for a long moment, his thoughts visibly racing behind his eyes.

"Because we didn't protect her from Strucker," he finally said softly, his bravado faltering for a split-second. Nadine froze, just barely able to keep her impassive mask in place. Her hand nevertheless tensed across his throat. She managed to keep it from tightening impulsively, but he noticed the reaction, misinterpreting it as skepticism. A muscle in his jaw twitched, his chin lifting minutely as his features hardened, regret and guilt and anger flickering in his eyes. Nadine's gaze didn't falter as she studied him, watching for even the slightest hint of insincerity or omission.

But then something in his eyes shifted, the remorse and regret becoming more pronounced along with the conviction she'd noted before. She wasn't even sure if he realized it had happened. "We weren't about to let it happen again," he admitted, each word sounding nearly defensive. "We couldn't abandon her…we couldn't leave her alone," he bit out. Nadine nearly started at the deep-seated emotion tied to the declaration, the latent vulnerability behind it. Abruptly she remembered what she'd read about what he and his sister had lost. That as young children they'd had their parents ripped from their lives before being left alone in a harsh world to fend for themselves, relying solely on one another. Something deep in her chest began to ease at his sincere vehemence.

He meant every word.

Slowly she removed her hand from his throat. With another click and a soft rasp, her Glock slid back into its holster on her hip. She nearly smirked at the relief and disbelief that flashed across his face. Not taking her eyes from his, she reached past him to the locker she'd been storing her own gear in, a flicker of amusement flashing through her at the way his eyes darted warily down to her rifle even as she draped her pale jacket over her arm. She nodded toward a locker on the other side of him. "Gear up." There was no missing the way he immediately relaxed the instant she turned, freeing him from her scrutiny.

"She likes us." She paused, turning back to the speedster. A bold, impish gleam had returned to his eyes. "Nina does. Just thought you might want to know." At the way her eyes narrowed, his grin faltered, and she saw him swallow nervously again.

"Don't push it, Pietro Maximoff," she countered dryly. "Remember that your Enhancements would only make killing the two of you slightly more interesting than my average targets." Satisfaction hummed through her as he paled. And with that, she turned and left him and his twin to sift through the gear in the room for items that would suit them.

She finally did grin as she heard a relieved breath gusting out of the boy behind her as she walked away.

As she turned, she caught sight of the Maximoff sister staring at her, her eyes flashing scarlet with silent warning. Nadine simply stared impassively back. She knew very well that confronting them had been reckless even as it was a calculated risk, but she needed to get her measure of them. She was begrudgingly pleased with what she'd seen; she had wanted not to, part of her even hoping a measure of…vengeance would be required. But these two had genuinely believed they had been helping Nina. So as angry as Nadine still was with them for taking Nina in the first place, she could also grudgingly respect that they had been so intent on protecting her daughter without even knowing her.

Yet, despite the warning in the sister's eyes, she could see there was a measure of understanding there, just as grudging as Nadine's. The sister knew they had made a mistake in taking Nina with them, and believed that Nadine had every right to be angry with them. Didn't mean that either of them were happy that she'd threatened the other, though. But Nadine could live with two peeved teenagers. She honestly didn't care if they were upset with her.

It was getting past their former robot ally to get her daughter back that she was concerned about now.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Barton murmured from where he stood in front of his arsenal cabinet, stocking up and prepping for the mission—he was grabbing up an awful lot of what looked to Nadine like explosive and electrified arrow attachments, she noticed. A soft, huffing sound of amusement escaped her at his comment. Of course he wouldn't have been able to help hearing.

He nodded over to the bench behind him, silently inviting her to take a seat. Hesitating for only a moment, she complied, holding her rifle loosely between her knees with the butt resting on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the archer watching her warily.

"Would you really have done it?" There was no mistaking what he meant. She glanced up to him, her expression once again impassive. She didn't have to say a word. If he hadn't had the level of control he did, she would've sworn Barton would've swallowed nervously. As it was, he unconsciously cleared his throat as he turned, propping a leg up to clip one last cartridge for his bow to the calf of his boot. "Okay then. That answers that," he said under his breath, settling onto the bench next to her. She nearly grinned at the reaction.

But then she sighed, her amusement fading as her thoughts turned back to the Twins not far away and her daughter in Sokovia. Next to her, a worn, folded piece of paper had appeared in her companion's hands.

"I had to know, Barton," she said softly, absently adjusting her fingerless gloves. "And if they were a threat to her? If they'd hurt her…or if they hadn't cared about the danger they put her in…" Next to her Barton was staring fondly down at the piece of paper, revealing it to be a well-loved photograph as he unfolded it; his family, she recognized. After a moment, Hawkeye glanced to her again before laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I know, Ryker. I get it." A wry glint appeared in his eye as she peered over at him. "Of everyone here? I'm the last one you need to explain it to. If it had been either of my kids? I'd have done the same. I can get what you're going through, I think."

"And I think you're right," she agreed softly, reaching up to lay her own hand on his shoulder in silent thanks for the gesture of support. Nodding, the archer stood, carefully tucking the photo away with an efficient motion.

He held out a hand that Nadine took, the gesture far more symbolic than genuinely necessary for her to get to her feet. Without another word, the archer and the assassin were making their way up to the Quinjet. Nadine paused only to spare the Twins a final look before she left the gear room; the brother was searching through the cabinets while the sister stared, lost in thought, up at Thor and his Vision out on the Landing Pad.

As the archer and the assassin reached the level that opened out to where the Quinjet was berthed, Nadine caught sight of Banner, Stark and Rogers gathered not far from the jet, their voices low as they spoke. As she and Barton approached, though, they could easily hear what was being said.

"If even one tin soldier is left standing, we've lost," Stark was saying softly, his expression serious. "It's gonna be blood on the floor."

As she and Barton drew closer Steve glanced up to his teammate, his voice just as low but nearly unconcerned: "I got no plans tomorrow night." It was said casually enough, but there was no mistaking the acceptance, the indifference beneath it for Nadine. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

God, was he really  _that_  accepting of the prospect of not making it back? It had been long time since Nadine had felt so resigned to the likelihood of dying. Not since the Red Room.

Not since before Nina.

The most reserved grin she'd ever seen from Stark appeared on the billionaire's face before he continued.

"I get first crack at the big guy. Iron Man's the one he's waiting for."

"That's true, he hates you the most."

They all looked up as Thor's Vision strode past the three men, his comment utterly offhanded as he passed. Nadine was nearly tempted to laugh at the mildly indignant, stunned expression that appeared on Stark's face. Even so, she exchanged an amused grin with Barton as he slipped past her to start getting the Quinjet prepped to leave. Beside Stark, Banner actually snickered, earning an indignant look of his own. Even Steve huffed out a soft chuckle.

It was then that Banner noticed Barton striding past, looking over to where Nadine approached, the Twins following not far behind. The move caught the Captain and Stark's attention and, the three of them sobering, Steve stood slowly, his features growing reserved again even as Banner followed Stark onto the Quinjet.

As Nadine made to follow the doctor and the billionaire herself, Rogers' hand closed around her bicep. Nadine looked up to him, her controlled, emotionless expression already carefully in place. It nearly faltered at the intent, hard look on his face.

"About what happened on the way to Seoul?" She nearly flinched at his suddenly dispassionate tone, just barely able to keep from reacting. "That gets set aside until after the mission. Can you do that?" Careful control or not, her jaw clenched even as her stomach twisted uncomfortably. There was no mistaking that he had every intention of confronting her about what had happened, both on the Quinjet and years before in the Red Room, when this was all over. And she couldn't blame him. He had every right; her secret had threatened the team.

She nodded sharply in agreement, not trusting her voice in that moment. Inhaling deeply, he nodded once himself in acknowledgement, dropping his hold on her arm. Then, after levelling her with an unreadable, assessing look, he stepped past her.

And Nadine let loose the shaking breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.


	49. Chapter 48

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

Upon reaching Sokovia, the Team split up, each going their own separate ways, each with their own particular tasks.

The Captain's pep-talk, if it could even be called that for how grim it felt, had been followed by a brief discussion and assigning of who was going where and doing what. It was a loose plan—mostly centred on evacuating the city—since, of course, as soon as Ultron realized they were in the city, the fighting was going to begin, making any plans that didn't involve engaging Ultron secondary. But they still went in with a plan anyway. What else could they do?

Getting the ball rolling on evacuating Novi Grad fell to Rogers, Barton and the Maximoff Twins. Wanda especially had stepped up there, suggesting that, with her powers, she could influence people to leave the city, putting them into a trance of sorts like she did with the Avengers to get them moving. Honestly, the notion left Nadine wary—messing with people's minds did in general, really. For rather obvious reasons; it brought up far too many memories. Enough, apparently, to earn her a curious, even worried frown from the Maximoff girl. Nadine merely scowled at the girl. She certainly did not appreciate the brunette getting into her head, intentional or not, even for just a look.

Still, in this instance, she kept her objections to herself. As much as she despised the idea of mind control in any form, she couldn't deny that taking advantage of Wanda's gifts would certainly speed up the evacuation. It was one of the fastest ways to get people moving and they needed to get the city cleared as quickly as possible.

Stark, meanwhile, was heading to confront Ultron, planning on buying them as much time as possible to clear the city. No one knew how successful he was likely to be, but there was no doubt that Ultron was going to want Stark. Not that the billionaire was exactly going to face him alone. Thor's Vision was going to be his backup, shadowing Iron Man before ultimately moving in to confront Ultron himself and hopefully burn the villainous A.I. out of the Internet in the process.

Which left Thor, Banner and Nadine. And there was little doubt where Nadine intended to go whether the rest of the Team liked it or not. She was not about to let anyone keep her from her daughter any longer than necessary, something no one—not even Rogers despite his apparent lingering disapproving anger at her, judging by the unreadable way he kept glancing at her—argued. She hadn't even had to say a word. The Captain had just looked to her and simply asked, his voice serious yet still nearly dispassionate, 'Romanoff and Nina?' It wasn't even really a question, but more a confirmation. She'd merely nodded sedately in response. There'd been no question. Banner had piped up then, offering to go with her, pointing out firmly that him going green was not a good idea, not with so many civilians around, but that he could help find Nat. He was hoping to avoid Hulk coming out until it was absolutely necessary…and even then, he was obviously not keen on the idea.

Distracted or not, though, Nadine didn't miss that there was something the doctor had left unsaid. His demeanor was unusually grim and guarded, more so than even the dire situation demanded. At first she thought it was due to him facing the likelihood that the Hulk was going to have to make an appearance, something he was understandably reluctant about considering what had happened the last time the Other Guy had been set loose. But the more she studied him on the trip to Sokovia, the more Nadine became unsatisfied with that conclusion. It was something more, something the doctor was conflicted about. It was a conclusion she had become more and more convinced of the longer she had observed him, especially given how hard the doctor seemed to be pointedly avoiding meeting her gaze.

He was planning on leaving.

Once the thought came to her, Nadine had to admit it seemed like the most likely reason for the doctor withdrawing the way he had been. It wasn't just her eye and her company he was avoiding, after all, but the rest of his team too. The conviction apparent in his posture and his dark eyes only supported her theory further.

Well? She couldn't exactly blame him for the impulse. She'd been suspecting since the Team's layover at the Barton home that Natasha was considering running again, and considering how close she and Banner seemed to be getting? Especially since she seemed to have the Hulk's trust on top of Bruce's? It wasn't a stretch to think that they might disappear together. Truthfully? Nadine couldn't say she entirely minded the notion. If it made her sister happy? She could see why her sister had grown to care about the mild-mannered doctor; he was different from most of the men people like her and Natasha tended to interact with, with more interest in avoiding the fight than running toward it. Given how precious even the notion of peace was to people like them? And he was a good man. She could see the appeal.

It left Nadine feeling a little less guilty about her own plans.

The only thing that sat wrong with Nadine was the idea that Natasha would leave the rest of her team hanging. That she would leave the mission before it was over. She just couldn't see it. Nadine might have little reason to stay in the fight but Natasha did. This Team had become her sister's family. There was no denying that, no matter that a little part of Nadine wanted to keep her little sister all to herself. But she just couldn't see Natasha abandoning her Team until the fighting was done. Once she might have been able to, but not anymore. She would want to stay until the job was done.

Not like Nadine. Before they'd even left the Tower she'd known what she had to do. She had her own plan and she was set on it: find Nina and disappear. Nothing was more important. That was  _her_ mission. The Team's plans were secondary.

A sharp ache tightened in her chest at the thought of leaving the Team just as she suspected Banner and possibly even Natasha were intending. But then the memory of Rogers' face when one of her darkest secrets came to light strengthened her resolve. They weren't going to want her around after this was over anyway, not once the rest of the Team learned her secret. So why prolong the inevitable? She wasn't an Avenger, after all. She wasn't part of their family. Especially when sticking around would only put Nina at further risk.

Her daughter had been through enough.

And that wasn't even counting what inevitably had to come. She owed her daughter a long, candid chat, after all. No, taking Nina far away from the final confrontation against Ultron was the best play. She needed to keep Nina safe. Her silent desire to stay and help the Avengers—to maybe, just maybe, earn a place as a part of their family…to belong somewhere—had to take a backseat to that.

With an exchange of silent nods conveying a wish of good luck once Thor had punched a hole into the bowels of Strucker's fortress, the Asgardian too was going his separate way, descending deeper into the base. He'd volunteered to investigate the depths of the abandoned fortress to try and get some idea of what Ultron had been working on.

Nadine and Banner, on the other hand, pressed onward and upward in their search for Nina and Natasha. Deeper and deeper into the fortress they went, the air seeming to grow more acrid and metallic as they went. It wasn't a difficult conclusion to come to that the fortress had become more of a factory than strictly a base. The fact that the caverns and passageways smelled strongly like a foundry easily supported that.

Sure enough, as the doctor and the assassin skirted around the huge cavern that dominated the heart of the base, following the tunnel-like corridors to the upper levels, there was no doubting that the facility looked more like a robotics factory than anything else. Even the massive dead Chitauri Leviathan seemed almost lost amid the giant furnaces and multitudes of assembly stations as they peered down toward the bottom of the cavern. But while awed and unsettled by the scope of Ultron's operation, neither of them were interested in investigating further. They had other priorities.

What really bothered Nadine, though, was how quiet the fortress felt. From when they landed the Quinjet in the base's main courtyard to slipping down the secret passage Stark had found when they had taken the base to when Thor had blown an access hole into the main cavern, they hadn't come across a single Ultron sentry. Even the main cavern and all its machinery was eerily silent. A sense of sick anticipation clung to the thick, humid air wending through the rough-cut passageways. It was making Nadine nervous. Surely they should have come across at least a few of his sentries by now. Especially when considering just how much machinery he had hidden away in the bowels of the base. Surely Ultron hadn't left his base and his prisoners unguarded?

But as they pressed further into the base, Nadine couldn't deny it; the base was abandoned. Her stomach churned. If the base had been emptied, it likely meant that Ultron was ready for his endgame.

She could only hope the Avengers were up to the task.

And part of her hoped that Banner and her sister's plans to leave included beating Ultron first.

But just because her instincts told her the base was abandoned didn't mean Nadine was about to take any chances. Her rifle never lowered, the stock pressed securely to her shoulder, and her keen senses were on high alert as she swept ahead clearing the way. Behind her, Banner was equally cautious, his found HYDRA energy rifle held at the ready in his somewhat uncomfortable grip as he kept an eye out behind them lest they were being followed. But for all that he was an Avenger, Banner wasn't a soldier.

It was something Nadine had to keep reminding herself. More than once she nearly left him behind, nearly losing the doctor in the maze of tunnels and corridors when she started moving faster than he could keep up. It did little to ease the impatience pressing sharply against her ribcage. Or the frustration. Or the helpless apprehension.

"Natasha!" Nadine spun at the sound of Banner's shout, her painfully strained nerves wrenching tighter yet as she instinctively sighted down the length of her rifle.

Only for her chest to compress so tight that she couldn't breathe for relief, her vision blurring even as her gun dropped from her shoulder.

"Mom!"

A dry sob ripped from Nadine's chest at the sound of her daughter's voice. Before she'd even realized she was moving, she was in front of the iron-barred door trapping her daughter and her sister, her arms slipping through the bars to pull her daughter close.

All at once she felt whole again.

Her rifle dropped to the floor with a dull clunk.

She didn't even know which language she was speaking as words of love and relief and reassurance poured out against Nina's pale hair as the trembling girl pressed as close to her mother as she could through the bars. All Nadine knew was that Nina was safe and alive and back in her arms. It was all she could do to keep from sobbing with relief.

A gentle hand landing on her shoulder pulled Nadine's gaze to her sister's relieved features. Even when she reached out to grasp Natasha's fingers in what had to be a painfully tight grip, her sister just smiled, squeezing tightly back.

The moment had to end, though. Laying a hand on Natasha's arm where she had threaded it through the bars, Banner caught the attention of the two master spies.

"The Team's in the city, it's about to light up." Natasha grinned roguishly between the two of them.

"I don't suppose you found a key lying around somewhere?" Nadine's hand paused as it instinctively began reaching for the lock-picking kit she had tucked in her boot, shooting her sister a suspicious, faintly reprimanding look.

"Forget how to pick a lock,  _lisichka_?" Natasha quirked an eyebrow at her older sister, her smirk deepening smugly.

"No point in breaking out until now," she quipped back blithely, "not with a couple hundred robots between us and the way out and you all needing to come here anyway." Nadine rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. She supposed there was some merit to the redhead's logic. Bruce, meanwhile, seemed to run out of patience at the mention of picking locks; not that it would've taken either master spy more than a few seconds, picking kit or no—it wasn't a particularly sophisticated lock, after all.

"Yeah, I found one." With a sharp gesture, the three women were pulling back from the door as Banner lifted the HYDRA rifle he'd been toting around and put it to good use blasting away the lock.

With a reluctant groan, the door was heaved aside. At once Nina was burrowing into her mother's embrace. But as much as Nadine would've loved to simply hold her baby girl close, reassuring herself that Nina really was okay, she knew they had to move.

"So what's our play," Natasha was asking Banner softly as Nadine pulled away from Nina, caressing her pale cheek gently before urging the teenager to start moving as the blonde assassin set her sights on the exit, snatching up her rifle along the way.

"We're here to get you two to safety." Nadine glanced back at the pair of them as the doctor spoke. The elusive sense that he was holding something back returned at his tone. Natasha looked up at him, her brow creasing in thought.

"Job's not finished." Bruce visibly held back a sigh, unable to hold her gaze as he shifted uncomfortably before fixing the redhead with a nearly pleading look.

"We could help with the evacuation, but I can't be in a fight near civilians. And you've done plenty. Our fight is over." There it was. Even if he hadn't outright said it, Nadine could hear it in his voice; a plea to leave it all behind. Glancing to Nina, who was eying her and her outfit and her rifle warily, questions and uncertainty clear in her large eyes, Nadine pretended to ignore Natasha's soft reply.

"So we just disappear?" She didn't have to see it to know Bruce was watching Natasha's reaction intently. Silently, Nadine urged Nina onward, giving her sister at least a short moment of privacy. a moment later, Natasha and Bruce were close behind, catching up to them easily. Nadine couldn't help but run an assessing glance over her sister; the tension in Natasha's shoulder had eased fractionally, suggesting that she was pleased with the offer, enough so that she was on the verge of accepting it despite everything else going on. But there was an uncertainty in her green eyes holding her back. It wasn't a simple decision for the redhead, not anymore.

But before Nadine could think on it further, Barton's voice was sounding through their earpieces.

"Banner? Ryker? Have you got them?" Nadine nearly smiled.

"Yeah, we've got them, Barton," she confirmed softly, her hand rising to brush back a lock of Nina's pale hair before gently squeezing her daughter's shoulder as she turned her attention to the corridor ahead, confirming that their route was still clear even as her rifle rose again in readiness.

"Well that's a bit of good news," the archer murmured, just barely speaking loud enough for his earpiece's mic to pick it up. Nadine couldn't help but grin at the undisguised relief there. Natasha glanced between Banner and Nadine, a faint, admonishing frown appearing on her face. Immediately Nadine huffed irritably at herself, shooting her sister an apologetic look before slinging her rifle onto her shoulder and digging into the pouch on her belt for the earpiece Stark had given her to pass on to Natasha once they found her. Levelling her sister with a raised eyebrow of playful rebuke, Natasha was tossing aside her old earpiece in order to replace it with the one Nadine dropped into her outstretched palm.

Only for the redhead to frown in bewilderment at the anxious voices suddenly speaking in her ear.

"You've got Nina?"

"She's okay?" Both Twins spoke almost simultaneously, Pietro's question only just barely trailing his sister's. Nadine actually rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Maximoff. She's fine," she managed to reply patiently, though a hint of exasperation made it through into her voice. Nina started next to Nadine, her suddenly wide-eyed gaze snapping to the blonde assassin.

"Maximoff! Pietro and Wanda? They're here? They're okay?" Nadine blinked at the anxious, eager stream of questions that burst out of Nina's mouth. A slight pang twinged in her chest at the reaction; her daughter really did care about the Twins. On one hand it was reassuring. On the other? Well, Nadine's overly protective side wasn't terribly fond of the development.

"They're fine," she finally managed to assure her, reaching over to squeeze Nina's shoulders in reassurance again as she dropped a light kiss against her daughter's temple. "Your friends are fine,  _solnyshko_." A relieved, shuddering sigh trembled thought the young blonde as she leaned into her mother's side.

Only for Barton's anxious voice to cut in.

"Though, maybe not for much longer." Nadine, Banner and Natasha all exchanged anxious looks as shouts from the rest of the Team began to echo through the earpieces. Ultron had unleashed his sentries on the city.

Without a word of consensus, the small group were immediately heading back toward the dim corridors that lead back to the surface, intent on making it back to the Quinjet.

Only for the base to shudder around them as they made it back out to the main cavern, stopping them all in their tracks.

Nadine met Natasha's eye as they all stumbled to a halt as the ground lurched and spasmed beneath their feet, nearly causing them all to lose their footing. Her gut twisted anxiously at the grim expression in the familiar green eyes. There was no denying what was happening.

Ultron was making his final play.

And the fate of the world hung in the balance.


	50. Chapter 49

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

The City was rising. Literally. It was rising into the air. Nadine had seen a lot of things—so had the rest of the world, really; aliens; Enhanced people; killer robots—but this was in a whole other league of unbelievable. Unbelievable and terrifying.

Next to her, Nina was edging closer to Nadine, her eyes wide as they roved the cavern, taking in the streams of dislodged dirt falling all around them and the machinery trembling out in the chasm ahead of them. All around them the base—the very earth itself, it felt like—seemed to be groaning under the strain, a bone-rattling rumble vibrating up through the ground and into their bodies, the sound of it nearly thunderous.

"Mom?" Nadine nearly couldn't hear Nina, the angry rumbling pressing in on them drowning out her daughter's voice. "What's happening?"

Nadine's practical, rational side automatically took charge as it always did in instances of extreme stress, danger or focus. She had been trained that way. It helped her keep a clear head, keeping her emotions under tight control where they couldn't interfere and jeopardize her mission or her life. As soon as the base began to quake around them, those deeply ingrained instincts had taken over. They'd really kicked into high gear as Stark and his new U.I., FRIDAY, had once again rejoined on their comm channel, the lilting female voice sounding grim as it confirmed what was happening. She was only barely able to keep her own anxiety in check as Ultron declared his manifesto—the speech loud enough that most of it carried through the Team's earpieces down in the city to reach those still in former HYDRA base.

But hearing the threads of panic in Nina's barely-audible voice? Seeing it in her already pale face? It nearly undid Nadine's carefully maintained control.

They had to get out of there.

The base was shuddering around them, earth and dust filling the air. Many, many stories below their feet, Nadine swore she could hear the dull rumble of tunnels and passageways caving, unable to survive the stress and strain as the roots of the city were torn away from the mountains it was nestled against. Pushing aside her own panic, she let her training take over, eyes darting around, looking for the quickest, safest route out, analysing their surroundings, taking in the changing situation around them and far above them.

As the lurching ground began to calm, the nearly deafening roar around them turning to a dull hum, Banner was the first to speak, his hand still grasping Natasha's arm from when they'd grabbed each other for balance.

"We gotta move." Wholeheartedly, Nadine agreed, silently urging Nina forward again. But they'd barely taken a full step before Natasha pulled the doctor to a stop, turning him back to face her serious, questioning expression. It had the two blondes turning back toward the pair in bewilderment at the holdup.

"You're not going to turn green?" A hint of a smile appeared on Banner's face.

"I've got a compelling reason not to lose my cool," he answered earnestly. Nadine wasn't sure she'd ever seen Natasha smile like she did then; it was so happy. But it wasn't quite enough to drown out the resolve—or the remorse—growing in her little sister's eyes.

"I adore you." And then Natasha was pulling the mild-mannered doctor in for an emotional kiss. Nadine sighed, nearly grinning in fond exasperation. Not that it entirely distracted from the wariness growing in her gut; it was certainly not unfounded.

In the blink of an eye Natasha's hands had slipped down from their hold on Banner's head to his chest. And she shoved. He didn't even have time to shoot her more than a bewildered look as he toppled backward into the chasm behind him. "But I need the other guy."

Nina shrieked, stumbling back against Nadine's side as her hands clamped over her mouth. Nadine shook her head, sending Natasha a disparaging look even as she soothingly rubbed Nina's back in reassurance.

"You know he's going to be pissed about that, right?" Natasha only grinned at the blonde assassin's wry tone. Not that it lessened the grim conviction and remorse clouding her vibrant eyes. A bellowing roar echoed up the shaft and, with a ground-shaking impact that had Nina struggling to swallow back another startled cry, Hulk landed in front of Natasha, his large mouth twisting with what looked oddly like approval and even amusement. Natasha smirked as she looked up at him.

"Yeah, but he's okay with it. Bruce'll understand."

"You're not going to run?" Natasha glanced to Nadine with surprise. The blonde just smiled knowingly back. Natasha slowly shook her head.

"This is my team, my…family. And we have a job to do. I can't run now. Not anymore. It's not just me, anymore. It's bigger than that." Nadine could feel her smile fading as a knowing look of her own grew on her little sister's face. With a slow, understanding nod, redhead turned to the Hulk, resolve settling over her as she unwaveringly met her massive teammate's eye.

"Let's finish the job." With a rumbling huff and a curt nod, Hulk held out a huge hand to Natasha. The redheaded spy didn't hesitate. In the blink of an eye, Hulk had swung his petite teammate onto his back as though she were no more than a rag-doll, leaping away with earth-shaking force almost before Natasha had gotten a good grip.

Leaving Nadine and Nina alone in Ultron's abandoned base.

Sparing Nina little more than a glance, Nadine was moving almost the instant Hulk had hurtled himself up the shaft to toward the shimmer of daylight above. Not that the teen needed any prompting; she was hot on Nadine's heels as the blonde assassin led them out of the depths of the base and back to the courtyard where the Quinjet still sat, mercifully undamaged by the falling chunks of rock the rising city was raining down on the ground below.

Not far away, on the opposite end of the courtyard, stood the base's garages. It didn't take long at all for Nadine to break in and locate a truck that suited her purposes—hardy and fast. All with Nina looking on in a state of wary awe.

"Nina," Nadine called, unable to keep the urgency from her voice as she climbed into the truck, gesturing for her to get in before ducking beneath the console. "We're getting out of here." It was a rhetorical comment, one not even wholly intended for Nina, but Nina started anyway, her eyes latching onto her mother in bewilderment.

"What?!" Nadine paid her little attention, her focus on getting them as far away as fast as possible. They could take the time to talk after that. In seconds she had the engine growling to life; hotwiring a vehicle was child's play, after all. But Nina hadn't budged from outside the garage door.

"Mom, we can't! We have to help. We can't just run away!" Nadine looked up to her daughter in surprise where she stood in front of the truck, astonishment written clearly on her face and her eyes glinting with determination and entreaty. Nadine fixed Nina with a firm look.

"This isn't our fight, Nicola! I'm not going to put you in that kind of danger. Not when I just got you back."

"But they need you!" Nadine nearly drew back in bewilderment at the declaration, her heart beginning to thrum anxiously as her eyes widened.

"Nadine." It was Steve's voice that had Nadine freezing, every muscle going tense at the lingering threads of reluctance running through the Captain's grim tone. "If we lose here, she won't be safe no matter where you go. I know you can do the math. There's no running from this." Nadine's resolve threatened to falter, her pulse thundering in her ears.

"He's right, Ryker," Barton's voice broke in, still managing to sound sympathetic despite the obvious strain in it. "There's no escaping this if we lose." Her jaw clenched painfully, her knuckles turning white where they gripped the steering wheel. She looked to Nina. Her daughter's blue-grey eyes stared unwaveringly up at her, her own jaw set with certainty despite the shadow of fear mingling in her features. Despite her own pervading fear, pride swelled in her chest.

Sharply Nadine jerked her head toward the Quinjet where it sat abandoned in the centre of the courtyard.

She didn't need to say a word.

A beaming smile broke out on Nina's face. Snatching up her rifle again, Nadine leapt from the truck to follow her daughter.

"Strap in, Nina," Nadine instructed the instant they were on board, her fist hitting the control to seal the boarding ramp. In nearly no time at all, the blonde assassin had the Quinjet humming to life, running through a makeshift preflight checklist before preparing to take it up, quickly familiarizing herself with the controls. It was, in some ways, a mix between a harrier jet and a helicopter, all while managing to be more streamlined and user-friendly than either, not to mention more intuitive.

It had been years since Nadine had flown anything. Yet the brief lessons Natasha had given her in the Quinjet during their days following the attack on Strucker's base—a means of keeping Nadine from running off by keeping her occupied, not that the blonde had minded all that much—were certainly proving their value. She was never one to pass up on picking up potentially useful skills, after all.

In minutes she had the Quinjet in the air.

Nadine had debated taking the Quinjet when she'd been making her own plans on the way to the small country. But Ultron's Endgame had changed everything. Her stomach had already been churning uncomfortably at the idea of leaving the Avengers to fight Ultron without her in the first place. She couldn't even fathom taking off with their only means of escape.

Not that she believed for a moment in her heart of hearts that they would even dream of abandoning the city now. Not with so many innocents still trapped up there with them. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, trying to get her to admit what she feared was ultimately going to happen to the Team.

And it seemed she was about to join them…

Soon enough the Quinjet had taken them up to the quickly rising city, leaving Nadine with the tricky task of landing the thing on a moving, climbing piece of land. Luckily for the blonde assassin, her limited skills combined with the smart, intuitive pilot-assist systems programmed into the Quinjet meant that it wasn't nearly so tricky a process as she feared. Still, Nadine wasn't above letting out a small breath of relief as the Quinjet settled heavily on the cracked pavement of a small public square not far from the edge of the city.

In bringing up the Quinjet, Nadine had gotten a fairly good look at what was going on in the chunk of Novi Grad being propelled into the upper atmosphere. The main fighting seemed to be concentrated near the edge of the city, centring around the large city square and the main bridge that had once crossed the river that bisected the city. From what she had glimpsed and what she had picked up from the comms, Rogers and Natasha were there. Not all that far away, there was a small pocket of fighting where Hawkeye and the Maximoff girl seemed to be holding their own while Hulk was off on his own—having little trouble ripping Ultron's sentries apart, she imagined—and the Maximoff brother was zipping around the city causing mayhem for the robots by himself.

Even as she set the Quinjet down, Hawkeye and the girl seemed to have wrapped up where they were and were heading to join up with the Captain and Natasha. It was where the fighting was still the thickest. So that was where Nadine would go.

As she grabbed up her rifle again as she abandoned the pilot's seat, absently checking it over before priming the chamber, she fixed Nina with a firm stare.

"You'll stay here." Nina's eyes went wide with indignation and disbelief.

"But Mom—"

"No, Nina," Nadine snapped, her barely contained anxiety and her waning patience already creating a tense knot in her chest. "I can't go out there unless I know you're safe. You need to stay here." Nina glared back at her, her eyes glinting rebelliously. But after a moment she caved beneath her mother's unrelenting expression, sinking down into the bank of seats behind her. Satisfied, Nadine strode over to her, pulling her into a tight, one-armed hug and placing a kiss on the crown of her pale head. The knot in her chest eased slightly when Nina's arms snaked around her waist, hugging her tightly back.

"I love you,  _solnyshko_ ," she murmured, looking down at Nina. "Stay here and stay safe. I'll be back." Her jaw still clenched unhappily, Nina nodded stiffly.

Then, taking a deep breath, Nadine left the Quinjet.

Most of Ultron's sentries seemed to be converging where Rogers, Natasha and the Twins were, so Nadine paused at the bottom of the ramp only long enough to get her bearings before dashing off through the maze of streets between her and them.

She hadn't even reached the city square before she could hear the sound of fighting. All at once, the Ghost was taking over as Nadine's focus narrowed in on the task ahead of her as the square came into view. There were sentries everywhere.

"You didn't invite me to the party?" The quip was out of her mouth before she could help herself. A bark of laughter sounded in her ear, coming, Nadine suspected, from Barton.

"We really need to redefine what counts as a party!" Natasha burst out indignantly. Nadine couldn't help but grin.

With a few leaping strides she was clambering up over cars and swinging herself up onto a balcony overlooking the scene before her. From what she could see, Rogers, Natasha and the Twins were really having little trouble against the sentries themselves…there were simply too many of them. Well, she couldn't help but think as her rifle materialized in her hands, her keen eyes sighting down the barrel as her breathing evened out, that was something she could certainly help with.

And she took her first shot.


	51. Chapter 50

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

Nadine let out a long slow breath, her index finger firm on the trigger, the familiar feel and weight of her rifle grounding in her hands as her focus narrowed on her target.

And she took her first shot.

Then another. And another. Round after round she fired into the fray, each one unerringly finding its mark. As the reverberation of the first gunshot echoed through the square, Nadine could swear she saw her little sister spin to glance her way out of the corner of her eye, a grin on her face, but she didn't pause to look. She was far too focused on finding her next target. Though, a small, mischievous, even petty side of her couldn't help but grin as the Captain started when she used his shield to ricochet one of her bullets into a sentry charging toward Rogers that she couldn't quite get a clean shot at.

But all too soon she was running short on ammo. Even more worrisome, Ultron's sentries had finally caught on to what she was doing and subsequently her position. It was time to truly join the fight, it seemed. Inhaling deeply, she leapt from her perch as the first sentry dove toward her, rolling to her feet just in time to catch a second sentry in the face with a point-blank shot from her rifle. As the robot crumpled at her feet she was already moving.

And then, just like her sister and the rest of the Avengers, Nadine was in the thick of it. Ultron's sentries just kept coming, lunging and grabbing at her almost too quickly to combat. But Nadine was just that little bit faster, spinning and lunging herself, ducking and dodging around the metal-fisted blows the robots tried to land. Her rifle quickly became a contact weapon in her hands instead of a firearm, crashing into the nearest sentry with a strident clang. It didn't last as long as she would've liked, though—it wasn't intended for that kind of combat, sturdy as it was—not against robots; flesh and other organic materials, maybe, but it wasn't up to withstanding repeated abuse from the tempered metal bodies of Ultron's sentries. With a well-placed slash, one of the robots caught the main mass of the gun's body, shearing through the weapon. Nadine was only just able to back-pedal in time to keep the same blow from catching her square in the chest, rolling backward into a low crouch.

In a flash her sidearms were in her hands, bullets pinging off the metallic body before a couple finally penetrated. With a hiss and grinding squeal, the sentry collapsed. Only for another one to appear behind it before Nadine could even think of catching her breath. So she dispatched that one too, diving around him to rip out one of his spinal processing cables and firing off two rounds into the gap, severing its main power supply.

But as she spun, ready to face the next one, she realized there were no more. Nadine's body tensed in wary anticipation as the square was suddenly empty save for the Avengers and the lifeless bodies of Ultron's sentries littering the ground. But Nadine's instincts told her it was far from over. It couldn't be the end of it . As her keen eyes roamed the square, searching for any hint of a renewed onslaught, she caught her sister's eye where Natasha stood a few dozen yards away. The redhead looked just as wary and uneasy as Nadine felt.

Then she was gone, disappearing as the city was suddenly blanketed in a dense, eerie mist. Nadine blinked in momentary bewilderment before she realized the city must have entered a thick bank of cloud. Sure enough, the chilled air seemed to cling damply to her skin as she struggled to pick out her surroundings. As the clouds shifted and rippled around her, buildings and people slowly came back into view.

The rest of the team was taking advantage of the lull in Ultron's attack to move the civilians left in the city, directing them to more centralized locations, trying to keep them together as they got them to shelter. But Nadine couldn't focus on them; her attention was still fixed on scanning their surroundings, senses peeled in effort to detect the next wave as quickly as possible when it inevitably came.

"The next wave's gonna hit any minute," Rogers' voice sounded in her ear, echoing what her own instincts were all but screaming at her. "What have you got, Stark?"

"Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear." Though trying to sound optimistic, there was no hiding the grim cast to the billionaire's tone. Rogers was not happy with the implications of Stark's answer.

"I asked for a solution, not an escape plan."

"Impact radius is getting bigger every second," Stark countered soberly, undeterred by Steve's terse response, "we're going to have to make a choice." The city, still rising relentlessly, was beginning to clear the cloudbank, the air clearing further with each passing moment. Not far away, Nadine caught sight of Rogers and Natasha standing near the edge of the city, looking out over the empty sky surrounding them.

"Cap, these people are going nowhere," Nadine heard her sister say quietly, the earpiece only barely picking it up. "If Stark finds a way to blow this rock—"

"Not 'til everyone's safe." She didn't have to see Natasha's face to imagine her disbelieving expression in response to the Captain's firm declaration. Her voice made it clear exactly what Natasha thought.

"Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There's no math there."

"I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it."

"I didn't say we should leave." Nadine's chest clenched at her little sister's resigned tone, her pulse thrumming with panic as her thoughts immediately turned to Nina where she waited back on the Quinjet. Natasha nodded sedately, the gesture just barely visible far away as Nadine was. "There's worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?" Unintentionally Nadine found her own gaze drawn to the vista spread out before them as the city continued to rise higher. There was nothing but an ocean of dense, pale cloud below them, obscuring all but the barest glimpses of the ground thousands of feet below them. A hollow yet strangely resigned ache spread through Nadine's chest at the sight.

It really was beautiful.

"Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better." Nadine nearly choked, her eyes going wide as a voice she certainly hadn't expected came over the comm. But that was nothing compared to the shock she felt at what emerged through the cloudbank.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier.

In that moment she wasn't sure she'd seen anything so beautiful.

"Nice, right?" Nick Fury asked wryly, obviously enjoying his dramatic and perfectly timed entrance immensely, "I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do."

"Fury, you son of a bitch." A small burst of laughter escaped Nadine as Rogers' incredulous curse perfectly summed up what Nadine felt in that moment. She could swear she nearly felt Fury's amusement through their earpieces.

"Oo-oh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?" The Helicarrier had settled into a matching climb, easily keeping pace with the rising city. As Nadine watched, deep, groaning clanks sounded as huge doors opened and retracted along the hull of the massive ship, revealing smaller ships that she could only label as lifeboats. Relief hummed in her chest as they soared toward the city, two angling in toward the cliff-like edge not far from Steve and Natasha while the others passed overhead on their way deeper into the city.

With a blur the Maximoff brother appeared next to the Captain, looking out on the sight in awe. "This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"This is what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s supposed to be." There was no denying the soft pride in Rogers' voice as he too looked out at the Helicarrier and its promise of rescue for the trapped people of Novi Grad. Pietro glanced back to Steve, a grin lighting up his face.

"This is not so bad." But then he was glancing back over his shoulder again even as Steve gave the order to start loading the boats, his attention no longer on the Captain or the lifeboats as the first one settled against what remained of the city's central bridge. A wide, relieved smile appeared on the Sokovian boy's face as he turned, looking past where Nadine stood. Before she could even frown, he was blurring away again, only to come to an abrupt halt behind Nadine. Spinning around, her stomach clenched at the familiar figure standing in the middle of the square, her blue-grey eyes wide with stunned disbelief as she watched the incoming lifeboats even as Pietro reached out, his hand landing lightly on her shoulder.

"Nina!" The teen spun at the sound of Nadine's shout, the awe in her eyes quickly overtaken by an expression of guilt. In an instant Nadine was striding toward her daughter where she stood with the Sokovian boy, panic once again threatening to rise in her chest. "I told you to stay on the Quinjet!"

"But Mom—" Nina objected plaintively, glancing between her mother and the Enhanced boy next to her. But Nadine wasn't having any of it, her temper rising in the face of her sudden fear. Nina wasn't safe here! Around them people were beginning to stream to from the buildings surrounding the square, hurrying across the battle-scarred pavement toward the lifeboats.

"No, Nicola," she snapped, cutting her daughter off sharply, "you purposefully ignored my instructions." Nina's eyes flashed angrily again, the determined expression she'd fixed Nadine with down in the base reemerging with a vengeance.

"You couldn't just sit back! How could you think I could? I can help!" the young blonde snapped right back. Nadine was momentarily taken aback but her daughter's sudden vehemence, the swelling of pride she'd felt earlier traitorously returning. She shoved it aside. Admirable as her daughter's conviction might be, it was far more important that she stay safe! Distantly she registered the rest of the Team speaking over the comms, Thor warning them all that Ultron was about to make a final play for the Core to drop the city. But Nadine couldn't focus on that just now. Next to Nina, looking visibly uncomfortable but not quite willing to slip away, Pietro looked suddenly torn as Stark called the rest of the Team to arms. She all but glared at her daughter.

"It's too dangerous, Nina!" Nina glared right back.

"Then you shouldn't have taught me how to fight!" But even as Nadine opened her mouth to respond, Rogers was approaching them, sending Pietro off with pointed glance. Reluctantly the Sokovian boy complied, sparing Nina a final look as he did. But Nadine paid him little mind, her gaze still locked impassively with her daughter's. Steve ignored the tension between them, fixing Nadine with an authoritative look.

"Ryker? We need you to do a final sweep of the streets; make sure we got everyone."

"I'm not leaving my daughter alone, Rogers," she objected, her eyes narrowing at the Captain as her gaze snapped to him. He narrowed his eyes right back, irritation flickering in his usually warm eyes.

"She won't be alone. There are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents here who can keep an eye on her. But we need someone capable—"

"—I don't need a babysitter! I can take care of myself—" Nina broke in heatedly, her eyes flashing. Nadine nearly growled in frustration.

"Nina—"

"She'll be fine, Ryker," Steve cut in, shooting the younger blonde an approving, even fond grin. Nadine nearly started at the shift. What had she missed?

But before she could think on it further, a flash of movement appeared in her peripheral vision.

With an irritated grumble, Nadine snatched the automatic rifle from one of the Sokovian officers rushing past her and, shoving Nina behind her, swung the gun up to her shoulder. In a handful of seconds and a precise spray of bullets, two Ultron sentries dropped limp to the ground with grating, metallic crashes as a third exploded in a fiery cascade.

Jaw clenched with a mix of satisfaction with herself and exasperation at her daughter's stubbornness, she made to hand the gun back, nearly shoving it toward the stunned officer. Blinking at the gesture for a moment, the officer took a half-step back, an expression of admiration flickering over his face as he held up his hands in deference. Her jaw clenched tighter as her sense of exasperation deepened, only to be brought up short when she caught sight of Nina's own wide-eyed astonishment. Steve grinned with vindication.

"You know what you're doing," he declared with a tone of conclusiveness, a trace of amusement surfacing in his eyes. Grumbling, Nadine turned and demanded the soldier's spare clips with a silent gesture, shoving them in her belt when he handed them over without hesitation.

"Fine," she ground out before turning and glaring at her daughter, her finger snapping out to point to the nearby life-raft, "but you're getting on that boat." Nina scowled.

With a satisfied nod, Steve turned, heading for the church where the rest of the Team was converging for their last stand against Ultron. Unable to help it, Nadine felt her gut twist with worry as she watched him go. But she forcefully shoved it aside, turning her attention back to Nina. It was only once she was satisfied that her daughter was going to heed her instructions this time, not moving an inch until she saw Nina step foot on the lifeboat, that she set to the task the Captain had left her.

And with each step she took, she couldn't quite manage to hold back the feeling of dread clenching uncomfortably from her chest down to the pit of her stomach.


	52. Chapter 51

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

She knew she'd been told in no uncertain terms that she had to stay on the Quinjet, but Nina couldn't fight the feeling that she had to  _do_  something. She couldn't just sit back while the people she cared about risked their lives to try and stop Ultron; her mom, the Twins, even Black Widow. She just couldn't do it! She'd already done enough sitting as Ultron's hostage.

So, even knowing her mother would be furious, no sooner had Nadine disappeared into the narrow streets of Novi Grad then Nina was following.

Only to find herself staring out at a veritable battlefield. Immediately she was choking back a cry of alarm as debris hurtled through the air around her, diving for cover behind a particularly large scattering of rubble. The central square of Novi Grad was strewn with cars, chunks of buildings and the lifeless bodies of Ultron's sentries. People were darting this way and that, a few, straggling civilians desperately trying to reach shelter while members of the city's police force tried to fight back as best they could. Gunshots echoed through the air, one particularly loud and powerful sounding set carrying above the others, nearly causing her ears to ring with the report. But the sentries seemed to be paying little real attention to most of what was going on around them.

The sentries were far more interested in the Avengers scattered throughout the square. Off across the expanse, heading deeper into the city, Hulk was roaring and smashing his way through any sentry that dared go up against him. The massive Avenger even seemed to be almost gleeful as he chased down any that tried to flee from his crushing fists.

Nearer to the edge of the chunk of city they were all trapped on was Black Widow, darting and leaping around the robots attacking her almost too quickly for Nina to follow. It felt almost surreal, watching the lone female Avenger and her teammates fighting in the flesh. She certainly couldn't help the anxious sense of amazement and fear as she watched the woman who apparently should have been her Aunt going up against robots that virtually dwarfed her in size. But there was no doubt that the redhead was perfectly capable of going up against Ultron's sentries on her own, her Widow's Bites and electrified batons proving more than effective against the aggressive robots. But even though part of her wanted to focus on the Avenger she'd come to know personally—that still felt like part of a dream, knowing that she could say she  _knew_  Black Widow—she couldn't quite manage it. Not when there was an Avenger fighting fiercely barely a few feet away from where Nina had taken cover.

There was no mistaking who he was. Even if she'd never seen a picture or a video of him, she'd have recognized him from the descriptions she'd heard alone. His distinctive star and ring-painted shield? Red, white and blue uniform? She was only feet away from Captain America. And she was not ashamed to admit she was a little star-struck. Though, the attacking sentries also barely a few feet away had that feeling fading fast, freezing Nina in her tracks.

Her heart in her throat, Nina could only watch in a mix of awe and terror as Captain America made short work of the Ultron sentries coming at him. But more and more kept coming, beginning to overwhelm the supersoldier through sheer numbers alone. But there was no one close. None of his teammates were nearby to back him up.

Besides, all of his teammates were dealing with their own onslaught of sentries.

With a pained grunt, a sentry landed heavily on the Captain's back as he was finishing up with another pair of them, the machine's weight and momentum nearly bowling him over. Unconsciously, Nina's fingers closed around a thick piece of rebar protruding from the rubble as she ducked down behind the heap of debris as a chunk from one of its fellows came flying toward her, eyes still locked anxiously on Captain Rogers. Her knuckles quickly went white from the pressure as she clung to the iron wreckage, her racing heart trying desperately to leap into her throat as the Captain struggled against the sentry latched onto his back even as he was fending off another with a hard impact from his shield. As the sentry in front of him collapsed in a lifeless heap, he was immediately trying to dislodge the one clinging to him, grimacing as the robot's arms tightened as he twisted in an effort to shake it off.

Only for the iron bar to smash into the sentry's head, the metal skull caving as the machine's neck torqued with a metallic crunch. The body went limp, crumpling off Rogers' back. His expression incredulous, Rogers turned, lips parted and speechless with shock.

But no one could have been more shocked than Nina.

With a dull clang the rebar fell from her suddenly trembling hands.

At once Nina was stumbling back, her eyes wide as she looked up to the Captain. She barely noticed the way he started minutely when she turned to face him, she was so blown away by her own nearly involuntary action. Had she really just done that? She'd attacked a sentry! She'd  _helped_  Captain America! She had _never_  done  _anything_  like that before. All at once she was feeling a little light-headed, staggering as her heels met the pile of debris she'd just leapt over.

A firm hand closed around her arm, keeping her from falling against the ragged chunks of stone and metal.

"Nina?" She looked up at the Captain, another wave of shock crashing in on her with a vengeance at the recognition that surfaced in his eyes. Not only had she helped him, but the Avenger knew her name! He  _recognized_  her! But almost immediately she was shaking the astonished thought from her head. Of course he would; her mom had been working with him, Natasha and their team. If Natasha had known her, why wouldn't the Captain? But even as she was absently nodding in confirmation a harsh glint of movement appeared over his shoulder, a cry ripping from her throat before she could even fully process it.

'Look out!" In a blur of motion the Avenger was spinning to face the sentry rushing up behind him, sending it crashing to the ground in pieces with a solid kick to the legs and a sharp, downward blow from his shield's edge. Then he was turning back to Nina, a hand held out toward her in question.

"You're okay?" She nodded, the gesture feeling odd and spastic with the way her mind was still reeling over what had just happened. She'd smashed a sentry's head like a pop can! Her gut twisted uncomfortably; she didn't even know she had it in her. Maybe before Strucker's Experiments had severely messed with her body, but certainly not in the days since. She must have been recovering better than she'd thought. Not only that, but the closest thing to a fight she'd ever been in before was facing off against Strucker's goons had been sparring matches in one of her class' handful of showcases. She'd never even competed!

His own chin dipping sharply in acknowledgement, Captain Rogers fixed her with a firm look. "Stay here, and stay down." Immediately Nina's lingering shock and astonishment was taking a backseat.

"I can take care of myself!" Bizarrely, a trace of a smile threatened the Captain's serious expression.

"After what you just did, I don't doubt it," he responded wryly before his face grew firm again. "But you're not ready for a fight like this." Nina's jaw clenched with irritation. Who was he to know that, her thoughts supplied rebelliously.

But at the same time she knew he was right. His words echoed her own thoughts. Adrenaline had fuelled her swing at the sentry, and already she could feel her still limited energy beginning to wane; she knew full well she wasn't wholly recovered from the effects of the Sceptre's energy, no matter that she still felt stronger than she had in days. She thought she could handle joining the fight when her mom had ordered her to stay on the jet, but the run after Nadine alone was threatening her still recovering strength.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right.

Her heart once again anxiously rising to her throat, Nina watched as the Captain leapt back into action, rejoining the fray as he charged toward Black Widow, his shield glinting in the sun as it soared through the air to lodge in the back of the sentry attacking his teammate.

Her awe was immediately returning as she watched the two Avengers fighting seamlessly side by side, an odd sense of longing twisting deep in her gut even as her anxiously racing pulse threatened to choke her.

But for every sentry they took out, more just kept coming. And Nina found herself beginning to tense again, her muscles, tired though they were, coiling as though ready jump into the fray. She couldn't though. The Captain was right. Her mom may have taught her how to fight, to protect herself, but this? This was a battle, and she was not a soldier…she was not an Avenger.

Her head whipped around then at a scream, her attempt to convince herself that she had to lie low, that she wasn't cut out for this kind of fight, immediately forgotten. It was an older man and two young girls, the oldest no more than thirteen or so. It was that girl who had screamed, the man—her grandfather perhaps—throwing himself over her and the other girl as a sentry descended, one of its energy pulses just barely missing them, sending a gout of dirt and concrete pebbles raining down on them. Anger was suddenly building in Nina's chest, her thoughts going oddly silent.

Just like she had with the Captain, Nina was moving, a hunk of concrete suddenly clutched tight in her hand. Then it was hurtling toward the sentry, Nina's hand stinging from the chunk biting into her palm as she threw it, her arm tingling.

The hunk of rubble collided sharply against the sentry's metal-clad shoulder with a dull clang. And those sinister blue eyes had turned to her.

Then it was barrelling toward her. Immediately her stomach leapt to her throat, competing for space with her heart as panic threatened the confidence her earlier actions had woken and the resolve that had fuelled her throw.

But before it could overwhelm her, before she could decide to do so, she was moving again. As the sentry dived for her she was running, eyes raking her surroundings, mind racing.

And then the Captain and Natasha were in her line of sight, and between her and them, a pair of cars, one hitched up on the bumper of the other.

She knew what to do.

Digging deep, she propelled herself forward, pushing her weakened body to go faster, not daring to pause for even a split-second to see how close the sentry was. She knew he was closing in fast; she could practically hear his repulsors droning behind her.

And she launched herself at the cars with a flying leap, skidding across the hood of the top one to drop off the other side. As her feet hit the ground she let herself crumple, pushing herself back against the creased door of the bottom car.

The sentry went blasting over her head, overshooting her, not expecting her to do anything but keep running. Even though it was going far too fast, as soon as it cleared the cars it was twisting, angling its arm cannon around toward her. Nina's heart nearly stopped as a crackling pulse began to flare in the throat of its cannon.

It was then that the Captain's shield slammed into its body, ricocheting off it to tear through another not ten feet away. The pieces of Nina's sentry plummeted, scattering across the pavement.

Triumph flared through Nina.

She may not be ready for this fight, but she wasn't helpless, either. She glanced up from the wreckage of the sentry.

Only to notice that the fighting had stopped. With a start Nina realized the sentries were no longer pouring into the square. But even as she realized as much, a thick layer of cloud descended on the city, making it almost impossible to see anything. It certainly did little to ease the anxious fear thrumming in her chest. Cautiously she straightened, looking warily around the square. Even though the sentries had paused in their attack, the Avengers hadn't stopped moving, darting through the mist, urging the remaining civilians to take cover in the nearby buildings.

But as the clouds began to clear, she was immediately looking for the people she knew. It proved easy enough. Captain Rogers and Black Widow were standing near the edge of the city speaking quietly. But it was a third figure that truly caught her attention, causing the twisting in her stomach to ease as relief rushed in. It was her mom. Nadine was alright, looking a little dusty, but no worse for wear.

Nina had known thanks to Ultron and Natasha that her mom was far more than she appeared, that there were things about Nadine that Nina would never have even thought to imagine. Part of her hadn't quite been able to believe it, part of her sure there had to be some mistake. Surely her mom would've told her! Wouldn't she?

But when Nadine had appeared in the bowels of Ultron's base? As much as part of her still didn't want to believe it, there had been no denying it. The way she was dressed? The way she moved? Hell, even the way she held that rifle against her shoulder, her familiar grey eyes cool and intent as they'd scanned the dim cavern before Nina had called out to her.

Her mom was far,  _far_  more than a simple ballet mistress.

She was some sort of super secret agent. A spy. A…well, something on par with the Avengers if she was teaming up with them. A powerful mix of relief, admiration and betrayed disbelief had crashed through her even as her mom had pulled her into her familiar, comforting embrace back in the bowels of Ultron's base. Echoes of which still rippled through her despite everything that was going on. She still couldn't seem to wrap her head around the fact that her mom had a whole other life she'd been hiding from Nina. One where she looked every inch as powerful and capable and dangerous as Black Widow or Captain America.

Because her mom did look dangerous. Even as she stared at Nadine where the older blonde stood looking out beyond the edge of the city, Nina couldn't help but swallow convulsively at the realization. Though she was no longer carrying the high-powered rifle she'd had when she'd left Nina in the Quinjet, she was still unmistakably armed, sidearms holstered on each hip—though she held one in a loose grip by her side, ready should she need it—and what looked like at least two knives poking out from the back of her thick, well-appointed utility belt. And that was saying nothing of the almost predatory way she moved, the coolly impassive look on her face or the keen glint in her eyes. There was little doubt her body and her mind was just as much weapons as the guns on her hips.

'The Ghost', Ultron had called her.

Nina actually shivered.

It seemed appropriate.

Nervously, she tucked her pale blue jacket—Pietro's gift, she couldn't help but remember fondly—tighter around herself, tearing her attention away from her mother. Though, as soon as she looked out past where her mom and the pair of Avengers ahead of her were standing, it was easy enough to do.

There was a ship rising up through the air beyond the edge of the city. A flying ship. Nina's jaw physically dropped as her eyes went wide at the sight. It was only as the giant turbines came into view that her shock-overloaded mind was able to supply what it was. It was a Helicarrier. She'd never seen anything like it before. Sure, she'd seen them on tv, a year or so before when three of them had fallen out of the sky over Washington DC in the United States; even in Vienna it had been big news…things like that didn't just happen. But seeing one in person?

She certainly wasn't thinking about the Helicarriers in Washington when one was hovering next to the city right in front of her. And certainly not when smaller ships disengaged from the sides of the massive craft, soaring toward the city.

She couldn't even properly process when Pietro appeared next to Captain Rogers, just as transfixed by the flying ship as she was. At least, he was until he glanced back toward the Captain.

And toward Nina.

All at once he was beaming at her and before she could do more than take an unconscious step toward him he had appeared at her side.

"You're okay," he blurted out around his grin, sounding just as relieved as he looked. She couldn't do more than nod, overwhelmed in that moment. It was quickly becoming too much for her already overloaded brain; her mom's secrets, her kidnapping, Strucker's Experiments, Ultron's threats, her worry for the Twins, her fear at what was happening around them, her disbelief at the ship hovering out beyond the city…

But even as her hand was lifting to grasp at Pietro's arm, her knees beginning to feel weak, another voice snapped across her awareness.

"Nina!"

The blonde teen once more swallowed convulsively.

Oh man, did her mom sound angry.


	53. Chapter 52

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

"Nina!" There was no mistaking that Nadine sounded angry. But neither could Nina help but noticed she also sounded frightened. She was immediately fighting back a wave of guilt. She knew she shouldn't have left the Quinjet. She knew as much before she'd even stepped foot off the boarding ramp. But she still hadn't been able to help the feeling like she couldn't just stay put.

Not that she'd ultimately been of much use.

Except to Captain America.

A small, faint swell of pride lit in her chest at that thought, and it brought with it a measure of confidence.

Confidence that almost immediately threatened to wither in the face of her mother's admittedly righteous anger.

"I told you to stay on the Quinjet!" Nina winced, glancing up to Pietro, unable to bear holding Nadine's gaze. Pietro was glancing warily between her and Nadine, his own eyes betraying his nerves. There was little doubt he was intimidated by her mom, that was for sure. Yet he stayed next to her, his hand still lying comfortingly on her shoulder. Her own fingers tightened instinctively on his sleeve, thankful for the support, unconsciously given or not.

It was too much, seeing her mother's grey eyes flash with temper. But even more unsettling was the fear lingering like a shadow behind the familiar gaze, just as unmistakable to Nina as the threads of it she'd heard in her mom's voice. She wasn't used to seeing her mom so close to losing control of her emotions. And she'd never seen her mom so scared before. Her stomach felt like it had dropped to her shoes.

"But Mom—" she started, the urge to explain warring with the need to ease the fear in Nadine's eyes. But Nadine didn't give her that chance. Not that Nina was sure she'd have been able to find the words anyway.

"No, Nicola," Nadine interrupted sharply, "you purposefully ignored my instructions." Abruptly her own temper was rising, her mom's anxiety beginning to feed her own. It made her bold and reckless in the face of Nadine's formidable anger, the need to defend her actions taking over.

"You couldn't just sit back!" It burst out of her before she could even think about reconsidering. Nadine looked visibly taken aback at Nina's outburst. Next to her Pietro looked equally startled despite his lingering discomfort, though the ghost of a smug grin teased his features. But Nina couldn't seem to stop, her own equally righteous anger not willing to be ignored for the sake of sparing her or her mom's feelings. Not considering what was happening around them. "How could you think I could? I can help!" But her mom recovered from her surprise quickly, staring impassively at Nina. She nearly quailed beneath the force of her mother's gaze, but she stood firm, her own anger stoking her resolve. She wasn't a child anymore. Certainly not after what she'd been through since she'd been snatched from outside their apartment.

"It's too dangerous, Nina!"

"Then you shouldn't have taught me how to fight!" Unwavering grey eyes met stubborn blue-grey. But before her mom could do more than open her mouth to retort back, Captain Rogers broke in, sending Pietro reluctantly off with a firm look before his impassive gaze settled on her mom. Nina watched the Sokovian boy go out of the corner of her eye, but her attention was still locked on her mom. She had no intention of backing down on this, no matter that the side of her used to nearly eighteen years of deferring to her mom's judgement was insisting she should do just that.

"Ryker? We need you to do a final sweep of the streets; make sure we got everyone." At once the stare-off between Nina and her mom was broken, Nadine's irritated glare shifting to lock on the Avenger. Nina nearly winced in sympathy for the Captain, but he seemed unmoved, merely staring back, unperturbed at Nadine's biting objection.

"I'm not leaving my daughter alone, Rogers."

"She won't be alone," the Captain countered, impatience beginning to bleed into his controlled tone. "There are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents here who can keep an eye on her. But we need someone capable—" Nina's attention turned fully to the Avenger, indignation fuelling her temper now. She had  _helped_  him! He'd even  _admitted_  she was capable of looking after herself!

"—I don't need a babysitter!" she snapped out, glaring at both of them as she interrupted the Captain, "I can take care of myself—" Her mom bit back an aggravated groan, her eyes slipping back to the young blonde.

"Nina—"

"She'll be fine, Ryker," The Captain broke in. Nina glanced warily to him, but was surprised at the way he was looking at her. There was no mistaking the approval in his ocean-blue eyes, or the flicker of fondness there. It reminded her of the affectionate looks Black Widow had given her back in the cell Ultron had locked them in. Bewilderment fluttered in her chest, cutting through her aggravation at being treated like a child. When it'd been coming from Natasha, she could understand that sort of expression; the woman was apparently her Aunt in all but blood, after all. But the Captain? While her action against the sentry hadn't been anywhere near spectacular enough to be considered 'life-saving', it had certainly helped him out of a tight spot. Could that be it? Or had he maybe seen her handling of the sentry that she had distracted from the old man and his granddaughters? Something deep in Nina's gut disagreed, her instincts whispering that it was something else. Even her mother looked faintly perplexed, her brow furrowing slightly as her grey eyes grew wary and thoughtful.

But all of a sudden her mom was turning, grabbing an assault rifle from the astonished hands of a Sokovian policeman as he rushed by. Before Nina could even blink she was being pushed behind Nadine as the older blonde opened fire. Nina jerked at the move, only barely swinging her gaze around in time to see her mom's well-placed bullets take out three— _three_ —of Ultron's sentries before Nina could even draw breath enough to cry out. She could only look to her mother in awe, watching, speechless, as the rifle dropped from Nadine's shoulder and she went to shove it back into the equally awestruck officer's empty hands. Nadine's eyes narrowed as the Sokovian man merely shook his head, gesturing that she should keep it. Next to them, Captain Rogers seemed like he was only barely holding back a chuckle of amusement, his lip twitching.

"You know what you're doing," he pointed out wryly, earning another scathing glance from Nadine as she silently demanded the officer hand over the rest of his spare ammo.

"Fine," she bit out. But then her turned her forceful gaze back to Nina. Instinctively Nina winced at the look. "But you're getting on that boat," Nadine ordered, unmoved by Nina's conviction only moments before. Nina was severely tempted to pout, her jaw clenching as she glared up at her mom. But one thing Nina had learned having been raised by the woman staring back at her, was how to pick her battles. There would be no changing Nadine's mind on this. And in this? Well, like she'd realized earlier:

There were more important things at stake.

In this instance? Her pride could take a back seat. It didn't mean she was happy about it, of course, but she knew fighting her mom on this would be pointless and a waste of everyone's time. So, still fuming silently, she obeyed, turning and joining the crowd streaming toward the lifeboat. Already one of the two that had latched on to the side of the city had pulled away, emptied its passengers onto the Helicarrier and was making its way back to the city's edge. As Nina reached the bridge with the steadily thinning crowd, it was settling against the cliff-like edge of the city with a clanking groan.

As the people ahead of her filed onto the boat, she turned, looking out over the nearly deserted city square. Somewhere out there, beyond the buildings lining the square, her mom was doing a sweep for civilian stragglers and the Avengers were facing off against more of Ultron's sentries. Overhead a flying figure soared through the sky, reminding Nina of Iron Man despite the marked difference in colour. Meanwhile, the last few civilians left in the city were filing quickly through the scattered cars and remnants of the Ultron sentries the Avengers had neutralized, the air falling silent save for the quiet hum of people on the lifeboat behind her. Even the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents directing the people onto the boats seemed to be speaking in more or less hushed tones. It was eerie, and part of Nina truly couldn't wait to leave the battle-torn city far behind her.

Eventually her turn to step onto the boarding ramp came and she was forced to turn her attention back to the lifeboat. The very place she didn't want to be. She wanted to be…Nina sighed. She didn't even really know. She looked out past the edge of the lifeboat, keeping right to avoid getting pulled along with the rest of the people boarding to the centre of the craft, determined to stay as close to the boarding ramp as possible.

Part of her wished she was out there, fighting alongside the people she cared about. Even if she wasn't fighting, just doing what her mom was doing, helping to ensure everyone else in the city was being safely evacuated. Anything but sitting on one of the lifeboats and waiting for something to happen. More than that, she hated not knowing what was going on, if everyone was okay. Especially her mom. She hated fighting with Nadine; they were all each other had. Her gut clenched with worry, anxiously waiting for her mom to reappear on the far side of the square no matter how irritated she still was at being treated like a helpless child.

Off to her left, off the bow of the lifeboat she was on, the other vessel was raising its ramp, obviously full up, to return to the Helicarrier. Her boat, meanwhile, wasn't full yet, and seemed to be the one designated to stay behind and wait for any stragglers her mom flushed out during her sweep. Not that there seemed to be anyone left.

The city seemed utterly abandoned. All that was left to do now was wait for the Avengers to return or for word to come that they were all clear to leave.

So, perched on the edge of the seat right next to the lifeboat's boarding ramp, Nina waited. It wasn't easy to do, though. It left her legs bouncing and twitching in her impatience, her hands white-knuckled and tangled in her lap.

What was taking so long?

Finally she caught sight of Black Widow and the man she presumed was Hawkeye driving toward the boat, the pair exchanging a few final words before parting ways as they abandoned the car. Natasha was quickly heading off in one direction while her teammate made his way to the lifeboat. Anxiously, Nina was sitting forward before he'd even set foot on the ramp.

"Hawkeye?" He paused, turning to her with a quizzical look before the expression cleared with a friendly grin.

"You're Nina, aren't you." It wasn't much of a question. Nina nodded.

"You had us all pretty worried, kid. Especially your mom." She winced.

"I didn't mean to—" Nina insisted, unable to help the way her shoulders began to curl defensively, "I'm sorry…" But he shook his head, chuckling.

"It's nothing to apologize for. It was nothing you did," he said in a casual, almost dismissive way that surprisingly helped ease the unhappy clenching in her stomach. He smiled kindly when she hazarded a glance up at him. "We're all just glad you're okay. I know your mo—"

"Is she okay?" she blurted, flushing faintly at interrupting him so abruptly in her impatience. But she needed to know. He merely grinned indulgently.

"Yeah, she's fine. More than fine, really. I'm sure she'll be here any minute; she's finishing a sweep for any strag—" but he didn't get to finish again. Right then, another young woman not far away was beginning to shout in panic, struggling against the Sokovian police officer trying to hold her back as she lunged for the ramp.

Barely sparing her a look of apology, Hawkeye was jumping in to help, grabbing at the girl's arms as he tried to talk her down enough to understand what she was saying.

A faint feeling of recognition niggled at Nina as she watched the exchange curiously. She could swear she'd seen the nearly hysterical blonde before, but she couldn't quite place where.

At least, she couldn't until the other girl started calling out for her brother. It was then that it hit her; the other girl was looking for Costel, the boy from the market that day when Nina had been out with the Twins…just before they'd met Ultron. She remembered the boy smiling at her. He'd asked if she was sick and if she was going to be okay in the sweet, blunt way only children could seem to manage.

The boy wasn't on the boat.

Almost without thinking Nina climbed up to stand on her seat as the exchange behind her continued, eyes peeled as she scanned the square toward the market where most of the people on the lifeboat had been sheltering. Dimly she heard Hawkeye assuring the sister that they would find her brother.

Then she saw him. She nearly missed seeing him, his dark-haired head and arm all that was visible from the stairwell he was trying to pull himself out of. It was only when she caught a glimpse of his panicked face that she realized what was going on; he was stuck.

Nina didn't give it any thought. She just reacted.

She didn't even register Hawkeye shouting for her to stop as she jogged toward the market. All she could think about was getting to the boy.

Smiling reassuringly down at him as she reached his side, she was peering down into the stairwell, giving the boy a quick once over. There was a gash on his brow leaking a trail of blood down the side of his face, his expression faintly dazed beneath his panic and fear. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened; he'd fallen in the rush to get to the lifeboats, likely getting pushed into the stairwell by the anxious crowd, hitting his head hard enough that he was shaken and disoriented, leaving him unable to quite manage to climb out on his own, especially with the stairs themselves blocked by a huge pile of rubble. Hopping down into the stairwell herself, she urged him to grab onto her shoulders, taking hold of his leg to give him a boost so he could pull himself out onto the concrete walkway above.

With a satisfied huff, she was helping him up to the ledge, not letting go even as he let go of her to pull himself the rest of the way up. But even as he managed to pull his torso above the edge of the stairwell on his own, Hawkeye was already leaning in to help pull the frightened, exhausted boy the rest of the way onto the ledge, sparing Nina a faintly exasperated yet proud look.

"Nice work," he said, holding out the hand not trapped by Costel's anxious grip, "you good? We need to get back to the boat." With a nod Nina reached out to grab his hand.

Only to freeze at the dark shape approaching behind the archer. As she caught sight of the Quinjet barrelling toward them, gouts of dirt and rubble bursting up from the ground as its guns flashed, her eyes went wide. Distantly, she could've sworn she heard Hulk bellow in pain and rage.

"Hawkeye!" Even as she cried out he was turning back to her, his gaze keenly serious.

"We gotta move, Nina." A frightening sense of urgency thrummed in her chest as she latched onto his outstretched hand. Only to stumble as the debris beneath her feet shifted in her anxious scramble to climb out of the stairwell. Even as her foot twisted painfully beneath her, nearly sending her sprawling against the concrete wall, she shoved aside the panic grasping at her racing heart, nearly losing her grip on Hawkeye's steady hand as she hauled herself onto the ledge, stumbling to her feet.

Only to look up past Hawkeye's shoulder to see the Quinjet bearing down on them.

It was coming up fast. As the realization hit her, Nina met the archer's eye, reading the same conclusion in his stark expression even as his hand tightened on hers and he pulled Costel in front of his own body.

It was coming too fast.

Already the sound of its guns was ringing in her ears as the bullets strafing the ground came closer.

But before she could so much as cry out, a pair of arms were closing around her, scooping her up impossibly fast. In a blur of motion Hawkeye and the boy weren't in front of her anymore, her hand ripping from the archer's.

As she met Pietro's determined blue-green eyes as he set her down, she realized with horror what had happened…and what he was intending to do next. Her fingers clutched at his shirt, his name rising to her lips in panic but he had already slipped away.

But even as he streaked back to the stairwell, where Hawkeye's head was only just lifting in bewilderment at her sudden disappearance, her feet were moving too, carrying her after Pietro as fast as they could take her.

But it wasn't going to be fast enough.

The bullets were already screaming toward them all.

This time even Pietro wasn't fast enough.

Time seemed to stand still as terror and desperation and horror exploded through her, the bullets reaching Pietro just as she crashed into him, her hands fisting in his shirt.

And everything went silent as a hazy, heavy pulse of energy seemed to burst free from somewhere deep in her chest.

Nina almost collapsed as it suddenly felt like every drop of strength she possessed had been wrenched from her body. It was too much…but even as her strength wavered, every instinct she had urged her to hold on.

But then a searing lance of pain sliced into her side.

And the world had sound again. Sounds of panic and chaos and shattering concrete. And tiny metallic pings as bullets fell, harmless, to bounce off the pavement.

But Nina barely noticed. Too quickly it was bleeding away, fading before her eyes. She tried to keep her eyes open, to stay awake, tried to grip Pietro tighter as he staggered, collapsing even as her own legs gave way beneath her. She was so tired.

But she couldn't let go. Her hands weren't obeying her. Her body wasn't obeying her; it was too sluggish, too weak and drained. Her ribs burned as warmth flowed down her side.

Distantly she could hear shouts and cries of panic, but she couldn't focus on them. She could barely focus on Pietro's shocked and bewildered face as it began to blur before her. All she saw was his eyes sliding shut. Distantly panic and fear flared through her.

But there was too much to process even as the pain began to fade and she too collapsed, falling against Pietro's prone body.

As Nina lost consciousness, the ground beneath them seemed to pulse and shudder with pain and rage.


	54. Chapter 53

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

"Rhodes, are you clear?" There was no one left so far as Nadine could tell, robot or human. Just as the Avengers had, the sentries had converged on Ultron's Core. But since the city was still rising, the Team was obviously managing to hold Ultron's minions at bay.

That left her and Rhodes to finish rounding up civilians.

And as it stood, it certainly appeared to Nadine that everyone had been rounded up. Breaking into a light jog, she glanced up as War Machine made another pass overhead, making use of his suit's advanced sensor tech to check the buildings for any remaining bio-signs, she suspected.

"I'm all clear, Ryker," his voice came through her earpiece, "I'm not picking up anyone else. You're good to catch your ride out of here. It looks like the rest of the Team are making their way back, too." Well that was a relief. It meant there was a chance this was all over. That all that was left to do was finish evacuating the city.

Then Stark could blow it and they could all go home.

Not that Nadine was entirely sure where home was going to be just then. But so long as Nina was safe, she honestly didn't care.

"Already on my way," she confirmed. Only to frown in confusion as the Quinjet roared overhead, heading toward the last remaining lifeboat. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. The small square where she'd put the jet down hadn't been anywhere near the church where the Avengers had been facing off against Ultron, so who would've retrieved it? No one had said anything over the comm, so she couldn't even begin to speculate. Who could've made it so quickly? The Maximoff boy, certainly, but she very much doubted he knew how to fly it. Could he have brought someone else to it? Natasha, perhaps? She knew he could do that, bring other people along with him. She pushed her thoughts on the matter aside. They were distracting and she needed to get back to the lifeboats. Back to Nina. She was sure she'd find out what was going on with the Quinjet soon enough.

But moments later, as she drew closer to Novi Grad's main square, she heard the distant, distinct sound of the jet's high-calibre rounds and Hulk's furious bellow. A chill ran through her and she suddenly couldn't fight the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Who's got the Quinjet," she asked anxiously into the comms. But no one answered, not even Rhodes, who she'd only been speaking to moments before. "Natasha? Barton?"

The apprehensive feeling intensified.

Especially when the ground beneath her feet shuddered.

For a split-second she thought the city was about to drop out from under her, causing her heart to leapfrog around her insides as she nearly stumbled on the uneven street, her keenly developed reflexes the only thing preventing her from nose-diving into the fractured pavement.

But when nothing of the sort happened, when she and the city didn't begin its plummet to the Earth below, a faint wash of relief went through her.

Though it did nothing to ease the anxiously tightening knot in her gut.

She quickened her pace.

Unsettled feeling or not, she was running out of time.

The main square was deserted when she finally reached it, the last straggling few Sokovians scrambling onto the lifeboat. The city effectively felt—cliché as it seemed to think as much—like a ghost town. Dust hung thickly in the quickly thinning air…or was it more cloud; it was certainly cool enough, and moisture was beginning to cling to Nadine's skin again. The ground was pockmarked with great gouges and craters, the lifeless husks of destroyed sentries littering the ground everywhere she looked.

It truly did look unsettlingly like a war-zone.

Piles of rubble and debris choked the streets. Everywhere cars stood abandoned, already looking like they'd been left untouched for years beneath a coating of grime and refuse from the battle despite the fact that some were still running, their headlights lending a haunting glow to the devastation around them.

As she reached the lifeboat Nina had boarded where it hovered at the cliff-like edge of the city, Rogers was just stepping back off the boarding ramp, surveying the square. The boats were full and the city was empty. The lifeboat next to them was the last one, waiting only for the remaining Avengers. Rogers was the only one left on the ground, literally, lingering just past the bottom of the ramp as he scanned the abandoned city square one final time.

But she paused at the grim, shadowed expression on his face as she stepped onto the ramp. Her gut twisted as she inadvertently recalled his reaction to her past with the Winter Soldier, but she pushed it aside; now was not the time for that.

"The city's clear," she called to him, causing the Captain to turn his troubled gaze to her. She nearly hesitated in her report. "Colonel Rhodes confirmed it. The Avengers are all that's left." He nodded, not quite meeting her eye. She frowned, the anxious knot in her stomach tightening further still, uncertain what the expression meant; was it stemming from his anger toward her from the Quinjet on the way to Seoul…or from something else? She couldn't help the distinct impression that his behaviour didn't quite have to do with the revelations about the Winter Soldier.

"Rogers, what's wrong?" she questioned. As he looked over to her, dread pooled sickeningly in her gut. This was definitely not about the Winter Soldier thing. There was no anger or feelings of betrayal behind this. The alarmingly sympathetic worry in his eyes made that perfectly clear. It was something else. Something about…

"Nina…" Immediately she was turning to the lifeboat's occupants, her eyes roving over the dusty, frightened and relieved faces desperately in search of one in particular. "Where's Nina?"

"She's on board, Ryker," he hurried to assure her. Nadine spun back to him, not liking the careful, even wary cast of his tone one bit. It did not help assuage the quickly intensifying dread pooling in her gut.

"What happened, Rogers," she demanded, not caring to hide the blatant fear in her voice or the way it nearly cracked. The Captain's expression of concern and sympathy became even more apparent, his mouth already opening to comply with her fearful plea.

But something in the air changed in that instant, a disconcerting tingle that had them both freezing almost defensively as a sense of sick anticipation settled over them.

They didn't even have time to wonder what it meant.

For at that moment, the ground lurched beneath them.

As the ground dropped out from under him, Rogers turned and made a desperate leap for the lifeboat, only just barely hooking his arms over the edge.

Before she could even think to react, Nadine was lunging forward, skidding across the boarding ramp toward the grimacing Captain—reaching—he was slipping, losing his grip on the edge—she wasn't going to reach him in time—

But then his hand closed around her wrist as her fingers clamped around his.

Pain seared through her shoulders, trying to rip a cry from her throat. But she bit it back, managing to keep it to herself even as a grimace twisted her features from the wrenching strain of holding on to Rogers' weight while struggling to brace herself so that she didn't get pulled over too.

She held on, though, the Captain dangling from the edge of the lifeboat's ramp for what felt like an eternity, his suddenly unreadable ocean-hued eyes latched almost disconcertingly on hers. But in reality, he was almost immediately swinging his arm up, managing to latch his fingers onto the lip of the ramp, alleviating some of the agonizing strain his weight was putting on Nadine's arm and shoulders—her whole body—as she refused to let go. She couldn't let go.

With a pained groan she began to help haul him aboard, the pair of them working together to heave the Captain up and onto the lifeboat. There was no understating the relief that surged through her as Rogers finished pulling himself onto the craft and she was able to release the death grip she'd had on his wrist or the secondary one she'd grabbed on the harness for his shield.

Neither of them said a word as they collapsed onto the boarding ramp, chests heaving as though they'd just run a marathon.

As Nadine met Steve's eye again, time seemed to stand still as the gravity of what had nearly happened sank in.

After a long, loaded moment, Steve nodded in thanks, unable to put it into words just then. Even as her lingering guilt tried to re-emerge, she returned it earnestly, unable to keep her relief from her features.

But the moment passed and they both pulled themselves up enough to lean over the edge of the ramp to watch as, far below, the falling city was vaporized in a blinding flash of light.

"It's over," she breathed. Absently Steve nodded before pausing, glancing over to her as the worried look that had caught her attention before reemerged on his dirt-streaked face. Immediately her entire body tensed, her unease returning with a vengeance before slipping headlong into fear. Rogers swallowed reluctantly, meeting her eye with a serious expression that had that fear twisting painfully in her stomach. But she couldn't voice it. Her mouth was suddenly bone dry, the taste of bile beginning to rise in her throat.

"Nadine," he said quietly, holding up a hand in silent warning, "something happened."

There had been several times in the last week or so when Nadine could've easily said she had never been so scared in her whole life. True terror did not come easily to her; it had been long ago conditioned out of her.

But the instant those words left Steve's mouth?

It was like she didn't even hear them, her pulse beginning to roar in her ears as his mouth formed the words. In an instant she was scrambling to her feet, eyes desperately searching the lifeboat as she barrelled through the rows of seats, pushing past people as she anxiously tried to find the one face she needed to see.

Then she saw a glimmer of pale hair behind a set of huddled S.H.I.E.L.D. medics. Well, no other instance of terror and panic had even come close. Not by a long shot.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move.

The pressure of her dread and fear colliding like a maelstrom in her chest felt like it wasn't even allowing her heart to beat, sucking all feeling and all emotion mercilessly from her body. It was so intense and so encompassing that she could've been tempted to say she felt…nothing.

And the intensity of it had only increased when she had pushed past the medics and Barton to see her little girl's still form laid out next to the Maximoff boy in the wide aisle between the batches of seats. Blood was soaking their clothes, vibrant and hypnotic as it began to blot through the bandages the medics had been using to try and stem the bleeding. She couldn't seem to process it, like part of her was trying desperately to believe it wasn't happening. But it had happened.

Ultron had shot her child.

She couldn't breathe.

In that moment she had felt like she'd been physically wounded too, like her crushed heart had been gouged, pulverized and bleeding, from her chest by great, ragged metal fingers.

The same metal fingers that had pulled the trigger.

It was only as she fell to her knees next to the utilitarian grey seats by Nina's head, her trembling hands reaching out to tentatively brush some of her daughter's pale hair from her face that some measure of feeling began to return to her.

Beneath her fingers, Nina's cheek was still warm, and her chest was visibly rising and falling, shallow and faint as the movement was. Nadine's first shuddering sob broke through, then.

Nina was still alive.

Her heart was still beating steadily, if weakly, within her chest.

Unable to help herself, she was immediately gathering Nina into her arms, moving so that she cradled her little girl against her. She didn't even notice as Barton's hand came to rest on her shoulder, the archer offering a measure of support and comfort she wasn't capable of processing right in that moment.

She did, however, notice as one of the medics inched forward, tentatively looking to her as he reached out to continue his attention to the ragged bullet wound along Nina's ribcage.

Mercifully, Nadine was aware enough to understand what the medic was doing, though part of her still threatened to lash out at the man for daring to touch her daughter, her protective instincts kicking into overdrive. But Barton's hand tightening fractionally on her shoulder helped her keep herself under control, helping to ground her enough to allow the medic to do his job and work to staunch the flow of blood trickling from the ugly gash on Nina's side. Yet, even as she watched the man work, the numb, concentrated pressure in her chest left her feeling hollow and utterly detached from what was happening around her.

It was like her mind had shut off from the sheer shock of what had happened.

But slowly it was beginning to come back online, the long-ingrained instincts born out of her time in the Red Room not allowing her to remain in any manner of disassociative state, emotionally or traumatically inflicted or otherwise. Whether she liked it or not, she slowly became aware of what was going on around her beyond what was happening with Nina. Barton still stood next to her, though he kept glancing over to where another set of medics were working on the Maximoff boy where he lay on the ground next to Nina, the medics murmuring urgently to each other as they worked. Just past them Steve stood watching them all, standing with his arms crossed over his chest as though standing guard—or standing vigil—over them. His face was impassive, though there was worry clearly present in his eyes, especially whenever his gaze fell on Nina or Pietro. Around them relief was beginning to stir through the other Sokovians on the lifeboat, the realization that they had miraculously escaped an impossible situation starting to sink in even as the lifeboat made its way back to the Helicarrier it belonged to.

For the most part, though, Nadine's attention was reserved wholly for Nina.

It wasn't as bad as it looked. Even with the icy fear and panic still churning deep in her gut, she was capable of recognizing that. The way the medic's frame slowly began to relax as he tended to the blonde teen made that clear. Besides, she could see it with her own two eyes. The bleeding was already beginning to ease.

It was only then that it finally began to sink in, her whole body beginning to shake. Even as the medic glanced up to her with a cautious expression of relief and reassurance, she couldn't stop it.

"She's going to be okay," Barton's voice said softly, cutting through the haze of panic and anguish struggling to reassert itself as he knelt down beside her, his reassuring grip on her shoulder tightening briefly again.

"I know," she croaked out, reaching up to rest a grateful hand on his. "I know. I just—"

"—for a minute there—" he continued when she trailed off before he too hesitated. "I know. When the Quinjet…I thought we…I thought that might be it. But then the Maximoff boy…and Nina? I don't know what happened, but...they saved us, Ryker. Him and Nina." Nadine gulped in a deep breath, forcing back the tears threatening in the corner of her eyes as she glanced over to the Sokovian boy. The medics were still working on him, their faces grim but determined. Meanwhile, next to him, her head now pillowed against her mother's lap, Nina looked surprisingly peaceful despite everything, her face clear of the pain Nadine knew she was going to feel once she regained consciousness. Nadine couldn't help the heavy breath that shuddered from her body.

It was over.

Nina was going to be okay.

And in that moment, that was all that mattered.


	55. Chapter 54

**Novi Grad, Sokovia**

**Spring 2015**

She might as well be dead. She couldn't feel, she couldn't think, she could barely breathe. She was the walking dead.

She was as good as dead.

She simply couldn't be alive anymore.

Her heart had been ripped out just as surely as though the organ itself had been violently torn from her chest, leaving a bleeding, gaping hole. How did anyone survive that? She was empty, hollow. There was nothing left.

No. That wasn't entirely true.

There was a deep, low throb of grief lodged like shards of red-hot iron deep in her gut, echoing the way her heart used to beat. But even that she could barely feel.

She still had a modicum of purpose, though. A shred of focus left to her. There was one thing she had left to do. As she collapsed in on herself, the physical manifestation of her overwhelming pain and grief and rage waning having burst free in a devastating wave—shredding everything in its path, every sentry, every soulless extension of that god-forsaken robot—her eyes had lifted to the sky. The pure, pale blue sky. A little part of her had even supposed that she could nearly,  _nearly_  see the brightest stars beginning to show through the blue.

It was a pretty, utterly disconnected thought.

She had seen him falling. The robot they had so mistakenly placed their faith and trust in. The robot who promised them vengeance but had instead only presented them with damnation. The robot who thought fixing—cleansing the world meant destroying everything.

The robot who had just slaughtered her other half. The robot who had just murdered her heart.

He had killed Pietro.

She had felt it. She felt his fear and desperation.

She had felt the searing pain as the bullets tore through his body.

Then she'd felt nothing.

A great, gaping, blank hole where his vibrant, bold, stubborn mind should have been.

It matched the hollow, aching hole that had been torn into her own chest.

When they were children—eight or nine; their parents had still been alive—she had fallen down the stairs of her building, breaking her wrist. It had hurt more than she could've ever imagined. It had been agony. Pietro had been distraught. She'd even heard their mom telling their father that he'd tried to make himself fall the next day, so that he would break his wrist too. Their mother had thought it had been for attention. She had known better. It had been so she wouldn't be going through the pain alone.

He'd barely left her side the entire time she'd been hurt, part of him guilt-ridden that he was unhurt, part of him not understanding why he didn't feel it too—they'd been so close until then that they might as well have been the same person. He had believed he should have been in pain too, just as she was. She had believed it too, but his presence had helped, his presence soothing the pain, sharing it even if he couldn't feel it directly.

But this?

The pain of that small fracture paled in comparison. It seemed so minor, so insignificant now.

Especially since Pietro wasn't there to even try and share her pain…because this time he was her pain.

He was gone.

Her twin was gone. She had nothing left.

Wanda looked up to where she'd watched Ultron—inconsolable and all but mad with grief as she had been—as he was thrown down from the sky.

Slowly she got to her feet. She didn't even realize she'd begun to move. She was just moving, setting one foot in front of the other, each step taking her closer to the one who had destroyed everything she cared about.

A twinge—a horrible, wrenching twinge—vibrated where her heart had been, reminding her that  _they_  had chosen to follow him.

That Wanda herself had allowed Stark to take the Sceptre that had birthed Ultron into the world.

Her flesh, her very bones hurt as the realization prickled and tore through her body as she trudged closer to where Ultron waited for her.

It was all her fault.

Pietro was—he was  _gone_  because of  _her_.

Another scream of pain and rage and grief tried to claw its way up her throat, but it died before it could reach her lips.

She didn't have the strength or the will to even cry out her anguish anymore.

She only had the strength to find Ultron, to look him in the eye as she…what? She had nothing left. What could she possibly do that would make any difference to alleviate the hollowness she felt? The pain? The sorrow?

The guilt…

She could rip him apart.

It wouldn't change anything, she knew that, but it would let her feel…something.

Satisfaction, maybe. Or at least something close to it.

But she still felt she had to. The compulsion was beyond thought, beyond focus, beyond intent. It was necessity. It was a final task.

There was simply too much to feel to do anything else.

So she felt nothing instead.

It was appropriate.

She had nothing, so she felt nothing.

She was empty, so she felt empty.

At least, that was what she tried to tell herself to distract from the strength of the grief and anguish roiling and twisting in the pit of her stomach like a riptide.

So she just walked.

When she finally saw Ultron, a small, distant part of her felt nothing but satisfaction. Vindication, even. He looked how she felt; limp, broken, shattered. Utterly destroyed.

She could suddenly breathe again.

She had purpose again.

She wanted to  _destroy_  him.

She wanted to  _hurt_  him.

She just wanted the pain to go away…she wanted it to end.

Her skin began to tingle as she stepped onto the streetcar where his broken body lay, incapable of moving. The scarlet nimbus that was slowly becoming as familiar to her as her own reflection was forming in curling, glowing wisps around her fingers; caressing, comforting.

Not that she recognized herself anymore.

As she stepped onto the ruined streetcar, she caught a glimpse of herself in the scuffed chrome finish near the driver's seat. Even distorted as it was, she could still tell it was her reflection, but she truly looked like something inside her had irrevocably changed. Like her life, her heart had just been irreparably shattered. Broken.

Utterly destroyed.

Her hair was limp and tangled, her skin pale and colourless. Her eyes flickered between a dulled blue-grey and a vibrant, vengeful scarlet. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt and ash and sticky, drying tears. But her hands didn't tremble, and the throbbing deep in her gut had steadied into a firm, urging ache. Her face may not have changed, but part of her didn't even recognize herself. Perhaps it was her expression: grim, focused…anguished…

…utterly destroyed.

As the visible manifestation of her powers flickered and danced forebodingly around her fingers, her feet continued to carry her forward. Until she was next to Ultron's prone body. It was only then that her feet stopped, and she lowered herself to her knees next to him. Her attention was fixed unwaveringly on his fractured, mangled face. He stared back. As she approached his gaze hadn't wavered. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't tell what he was feeling; his face was far too damaged. But he seemed almost…concerned. Sad, even. Sympathetic. The rage building in the pit of her stomach intensified. She didn't want his pity.

She wanted his pain.

"Wanda," he murmured, "if you stay here, you'll die." Bile and tears rose in her throat, trying to choke her as the emptiness in her chest throbbed.

"I just did," she said softly, her voice just as hollow and merciless as she felt. Her head tilted, considering him. "Do you know how it felt?"

And she ripped his core right out of his chest, the orb slamming into her palm as the gleaming scarlet tendrils of her power wrenched it free the way her own heart had been torn from her body. She watched as the light faded from his human-like eyes. The trembling need in her gut stilled, her eyes dropping to the core in her hand. Hydraulic fluid oozed over her fingers, dripping to the floor. She looked up to him as the last flicker of life faded from his bionic eyes, vindication humming through her body.

"It felt like that."

And the core dropped from her fingers with a dull clank. Her fingers were coated with thick, black, fluid.

And she felt nothing again.

Until something in the air shifted.

And she was aware again.

As the world lurched around her, her chest clenched, caving beneath the pressure of realization.

…The Core.

She'd left it undefended.

She'd failed in her mission, and around her the city began its final hurtling descent.

All at once she couldn't feel her own body around her. Wind whipped and roared around her, drowning out the way her pulse echoed in her ears. She couldn't breathe. As the city was propelled toward the ground, she was paralysed by the sheer elemental force of the fall. She couldn't have moved even if she'd wanted to.

But she was oddly okay with that.

Then a pair of arms pulled her into a cradling embrace. For a split-heart-wrenching-second she thought it was Pietro, either coming to whisk her to safety…or to join him. But it wasn't, and her chest was once again empty and aching. She felt utterly and completely detached from herself as Thor's Vision gathered her up. She couldn't seem to process what he was doing.

And then he was soaring away with her safely held in his arms, leaving the city behind. But it didn't wholly register with her. She couldn't process why he'd come for her. Or why he was taking her away. She could only frown in confusion as suddenly the air was clear again.

That frown only deepened as he settled onto what felt like land again. Around her voices began to speak, but she couldn't focus on what they were saying.

Something was tugging at her thoughts, like she was supposed to notice something. Something important. Something her mind had been unconsciously—desperately—searching for the instant it had been lost.

Something necessary to her. Something vital. Something precious.

She barely noticed when Vision set her down, steadying her as her knees nearly went out from beneath her. She barely noticed as he began guiding her through the Helicarrier toward the ship's infirmary or when a S.H.I.E.L.D. medic took over from the android.

She didn't even register Nina lying unconscious nearby, her mother watching impassively from the slight blonde's bedside as Wanda approached. Nor did she register Hawkeye's careful, concerned gaze following her, or how Captain Rogers and Black Widow stood like watchful shadows at the edge of the room.

She noticed nothing but the still form lying prone directly in front of her. Her focus narrowed on him and him alone to the exclusion of all else.

All she could focus on was that small, flickering sensation tickling at her mind, urging her toward a single, vibrant, impossible truth.

It was only when she saw him that realization seared through her like a bolt of lightning.

Suddenly she felt too much. It was all crashing in on her. She couldn't separate joy from grief or relief from rage. Anguish mingled with euphoria as her heart was suddenly and painfully crashing around within her ribcage again. She felt like she was about to break apart, like her body was about to shatter into a million pieces, like it couldn't contain the sheer eruption of emotion bursting from the centre of her chest.

And then she was placing one foot in front of the other, each step slow and surreal. Distantly she could feel her entire body shaking, her hands fluttering like leaves in a storm as she reached out to brush her fingertips against his face.

Warmth poured through her, the sensation seeming to wake her from a deep sleep. As hot, wet tears began streaming down her face she was sinking onto the cot next to him, curling herself around her twin, pillowing her head against his chest so she could hear his weak but steady heartbeat.

As the first sob tore from her chest, the pressure building beneath her collarbone finally easing, she couldn't help but smile.

Pietro was alive.

She was whole again.


	56. Chapter 55

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

For the first time in what felt like an age, Nadine felt like she could breathe freely, easily. Like the weight of her fear and guilt and worry weren't trying to crush her into the ground.

And it was all because Nina lay, safe and alive, on the infirmary bed next to her, her daughter's hand clutched tightly in hers.

Sure, there were still moments where her chest would clench and she'd fear it was all a cruel dream, but then Nina would make a sound in her sleep or her fingers would flex beneath Nadine's and the feeling would ease. A measure of fear still twisted deep in her stomach—Nina was still hurt for all that she was safe, after all, and she hadn't woken up yet—but it was manageable thanks to the knowledge that her daughter was recovering.

Barely a few feet away, the Maximoff girl still lay curled against her twin, virtually lost to the world. She hadn't moved since she'd lain down next to him. Nadine had actually feared for the girl, that something had been irrevocably broken inside her, when the medic had first led her into the infirmary; she'd been virtually comatose. Save for the faintest of perplexed creases between her brows, the vague blankness of her expression had reminded Nadine eerily of what the girl had done to the Avengers in Johannesburg. She'd worn virtually the same lost, even anguished, vacant look as they'd had.

At least, until she'd seen her brother.

The instant the girl had laid eyes on Pietro it was as though something had snapped back into place. Colour had begun seeping back into her dirt-streaked cheeks and her eyes seemed to come back to life. She'd inched tentatively to his side, as though unable or even reluctant to believe what she was seeing. Her features had been so wary, as though she'd feared it was some sort of cruel delusion.

But then, with shaking hands, she'd reached out to touch his cheek…tears had genuinely sprung to Nadine's eyes at the indescribable relief in the small, hiccupping sigh that had escaped from the girl.

Then, without so much as another sound, she'd laid down next to him, silent sobs shuddering through her as she cuddled against her twin as though the proximity was a crucial to her as oxygen. And perhaps on some level it was.

The bond between twins was a mysterious and sacred thing, after all, and at times beyond rational explanation.

The infirmary around them was quiet beyond the gentle hum and steady beeps from the monitors, the efficient S.H.I.E.L.D. medics having finished setting the infirmary to rights and retreated into offices or out elsewhere on the ship. Without the medics, the only occupants were the Maximoff Twins, Nadine, Natasha and Nina. Initially, the worst of the injured from Novi Grad had been brought to the ship's designated infirmary, everyone else funnelling through the mess hall-turned-overflow-infirmary to get a brief once-over by the Helicarrier's medics and the odd doctor from the city.

But once the city had fallen and had been vaporized by Stark and Thor, the worst off had been collected and airlifted away. Not long after, the civilians had been similarly ferried away as well, the lifeboats returning them to solid ground.

Leaving only the Avengers and their allies to occupy the Helicarrier and its glass-enclosed infirmary. Nadine was perfectly content with that. The urgency and noise that came with a bustling rescue operation had only grated on her already frayed nerves. The quiet was a godsend.

For as long as it lasted, at least.

Not long after the Novi Grad refugees had disembarked, Barton had dropped in to check on Nina, Nadine and the Twins, relating what had happened to Nina and Pietro as best he knew; he hadn't seen much, having been ducking away from the Quinjet's bullets right as the two of them had rushed forward to shield them. Once she'd exhausted her questions for him about the incident, after he'd updated her on what else had been going on since the city had been destroyed, he'd informed Nadine that Fury was giving them a lift back Stateside. Apparently Stark had been working on outfitting a secondary facility for the Avengers for the last several months already; Fury was going to drop them off there even though it wasn't quite done yet. Briefly she contemplated asking to be dropped off in Vienna with Nina, but Nadine couldn't quite summon the will to do so. She didn't have the energy or the heart to disappear just now. She was tired of running, of fighting. She was tired of being everything but Nina's mother. She was tired of being the Ghost. Just now, all she wanted to do was reassure herself that her daughter and her sister were alright.

She glanced up. Next to her, Natasha had dozed off where she'd settled on the cot next to Nina's once the infirmary had finally emptied, abandoning her sentry position near the main entrance to sit near Nadine. Not long after that she'd finally consented to allow the medics to check her over too; they had declared she'd gotten a nasty bump on the head just short of a concussion when Ultron had attacked her and Hulk before he'd moved on to Barton, Nina and Pietro. But, of course, Natasha had waved off the following order to rest, settling in to join Nadine's vigil. Something Nadine appreciated to no end. Nina still hadn't woken up, and though the medics had assured Nadine that she was out of danger and would wake up when she was ready, Nadine couldn't help but worry anyway. Having Natasha next to her lending her silent support helped immensely.

But the redhead had been visibly distracted…not to mention physically and emotionally drained. Distracted as she had been herself, it had taken Nadine far more time than it should have to discern why.

And it was more than just worry for Nina and a poorly hidden fear that Nadine was about to disappear again.

Everyone had popped their head in to see for themselves who Nina and the Twins were doing. Even Fury and Stark had made silent appearances—the billionaire had unsurprisingly been not quite able to meet Nadine's gaze. Barton had later told her that he'd subsequently jetted off ahead, supposedly to make sure everything was on track at the new facility before the rest of the team arrived.

But there was one face that hadn't appeared. One that Nadine knew would've been quick to check in and see that Nina and especially Natasha were okay.

Doctor Banner.

It only took a few moments of careful study of her little sister's reserved features once she'd realized as much to figure out what had happened.

He'd left…and he'd left Natasha behind.

Part of her couldn't say she'd been surprised when Barton had confirmed as much, his voice low to keep from waking Natasha. There had been little question even before Sokovia and Johannesburg that the mild-mannered doctor had been struggling to keep his demons in check. Unlike Natasha, he hadn't been second-guessing his need to run; that had been perfectly obvious already back in Ultron's base before he'd gone green. It made her sad to think on it, but it was what it was. She couldn't blame him, honestly. Not knowing him even for the short time she had. He'd thought he'd come to terms with what he was after the Battle of New York, but he'd realized with Ultron's creation that he wasn't so easy with his conscience as he'd wanted to believe. That there was a great deal he needed to come to terms with. And she knew from experience that it was hard to do that around other people. Even the well-meaning ones.

But her heart ached for Natasha. It went unsaid that Banner's flight had hit her hard. And naturally she was doing her best to hide it away; force of long habit. But she couldn't quite hide of from Nadine or Barton.

When he'd been updating Nadine, the archer had been unable to keep from glancing to his best friend, concern clear in his eyes. The redhead had finally fallen asleep not long before he'd appeared. Natasha had been unwilling and likely unable to let herself rest, having only settled on the cot by Nadine to indulge her older sister. Though she'd tried, Natasha hadn't quite been able to hide just how preoccupied she'd been, her expression before drifting off when she thought Nadine wasn't looking betraying that she'd been far too lost to her troubled thoughts to sleep. But she had eventually succumbed, falling into a fitful doze.

As Nadine glanced to her sister again, Natasha stirred. Only this time she didn't settle again, her sleep and exhaustion-clouded eyes opening to habitually and subtly scan her surroundings before fixing on Nadine. Only once her instincts for caution were appeased was she stifling a groan, stretching out her stiff muscles as she straightened.

"How long was I out," she asked somewhat blearily, sleep still evident in her voice as she glanced between Nina and the Twins, her keen eyes flicking over the monitors. Nadine couldn't help but smile fondly.

"Not long. You missed Barton, though." Natasha nodded along as Nadine quietly filled her in on everything Barton had passed on while she'd been asleep. Only the faintest hint of hurt flickered across her features at mention of Banner, but it was more than enough to confirm Nadine's suspicions. She debated letting the matter lie, but the concern her sister's reserved, even veiled expression brought out in Nadine wouldn't let her. Not even temporarily.

"You okay,  _lisichka_?" Nadine asked softly, "I know you and Banner were close—"

"It's okay, Nadya," Natasha answered back just as softly, a trace of hurt still in her eyes. But her tone was genuinely, well…not okay, but getting there; resigned was probably the best word. "I've come to terms with my demons, my ghosts. But he's still working on living with his." She smiled sadly as she looked up at Nadine. "It wasn't the right time." A sympathetic smile rising to her lips, Nadine reached out to take her sister's hand in hers, squeezing silently in a gesture of solidarity. But she had nothing to say. Natasha had said it all. And Natasha didn't need words right now, anyway. Just someone to understand. Well, Nadine could provide that gladly. Gratefully, the redhead squeezed back before sighing softly, her gaze dipping to her lap for a moment before looking back up to the blonde.

But before she could say what she was obviously preparing to say, the soft hiss of the infirmary door sliding open cut her off.

Simultaneously the two spies turned to see who had interrupted their quiet conversation.

Captain Rogers had come to a halt just inside the door, glancing to Nadine before looking with distinct concern to Nina. Next to her, Natasha frowned thoughtfully, a thread of wariness appearing in her expression as she watched the Captain that quickly had Nadine frowning too. It was decidedly odd. Slowly Natasha stood, slipping around Nadine to stand between her and Steve. Rogers glanced to his teammate before his attention returned to Nadine. She had already returned her gaze to her daughter, her heart beginning to thrum anxiously.

"We need to talk," he said quietly, his voice impassive and his tone final. Natasha made a small, unhappy sound.

"Does it have to be now," she murmured, a trace of exasperation in her tone, "we already talked about this, Steve." Nadine saw him straighten subtly out of the corner of her eye. She already knew why he was there. She had the minute he'd walked in the door; it had been clear on his face. Just as it had been clear there would be no dissuading him until he got his answers. And she suspected Natasha was well aware of it too. Her stomach churned uneasily. She'd known there'd be no getting out of this conversation if she stuck around, but she'd been hoping for a little more time, at least. Obviously of similar mind, her little sister was doing her best to at least get him to hold off a little while longer. "We can do this once we get to Tony's new base." It was an attempt she appreciated, to be sure, but part of Nadine also just wanted it over with. Slowly he shook his head.

"I need to hear her side of it, Romanoff," he said firmly.

"Steve—"

"This is not up for debate. It's a conversation that needs to happen before we reach the base." He sounded almost apologetic, but that couldn't be right.

"Her daughter was injured, Steve," Natasha argued, her disbelief thick in her low voice. Nadine flinched, the lingering fear lurking in her gut twisting with sick anticipation about the looming conversation. "She could have  _died_! Surely this can wait until Nina at least wakes up." Steve hesitated, visibly conflicted, before he sighed heavily, looking intently down at his friend.

"I need to know, Nat," he murmured, sounding nearly plaintive despite the frustration beginning to thread his tone. He looked back to Nadine. "I need to know what happened between you and hi—"

"Not here," Nadine interrupted, finally looking up to him. Her voice was hard but still somehow pleading. Steve hesitated, his eyes hardening as traces of his earlier hurt and anger returned.

"I don't think you get to decide that, Ryker," he countered almost defensively. It was then that Natasha stepped closer to him, a restraining hand gripping his arm.

"She's right, Steve. Not here." Steve's jaw clenched, barely sparing Natasha a hard glance from his critical focus on Nadine.

"Why not here, Natasha. It's private, secure. Beyond that it hardly matters where this conversation happens," he ground out. Nadine's own jaw clenched and she stood slowly, sparing Nina's sleeping form a last glance before turning toward Steve. With each controlled step, her expression shifted seamlessly from resigned unease to all but emotionless, hiding her reactions away.

"Because of her," she said coolly. "I don't care what you have to say to me, Rogers. It can hardly be worse than many of the things I've thought about myself over the years." She paused, gesturing back toward her unconscious daughter, and though she didn't allow herself to look, her meticulous mask wavered anyway. "But I won't burden her with it. They're my secrets, my mistakes. Not hers. She's been through enough." Steve's eyes narrowed but after a moment his gaze flicked to Nina, his expression softening. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded.

"Alright." At once he was scanning the infirmary before settling on the abandoned chief medical officer's office. Without a word he fixed the two women with an unmistakable look and strode to the office. She only hesitated for a split second, but Nadine followed without argument despite part of her recoiling violently at the idea of the Captain interrogating her over some of her greatest regrets. She pointedly ignored the concerned and even alarmed look Natasha shot at her. It was going to be hard enough to keep her emotions in check and seeing her sister's concern was not likely to help there. Mercifully, as Natasha followed Steve and Nadine into the office, she seemed to realize as much, schooling her features just as Nadine had. At first Steve seemed nearly uncertain about Natasha joining them, but one impassive look from the redhead as she closed the door had him falling silent. Just as she knew when it was pointless to argue with him, Steve evidently knew when there was no chance of getting Natasha to back down. Nadine nearly smiled at the silent exchange.

For a long, tense moment no one spoke, no one quite sure who should start and no one quite wanting to be the one to break the silence now that the conversation was about to happen. It was evident from the atmosphere alone that it was a conversation everyone had been dreading, which did nothing to ease the sense of anxious reluctance lingering in the air. Steve leaned against the desk, his arms crossed tightly across his broad chest, his gaze lowered and sightless. Nadine stood motionless off to the side, unable to look at the Captain, carefully keeping her expression emotionless as her own arms wrapped tight around her torso. Natasha was the only one who seemed to be able to look at either of them, her eyes alternating between cautiously studying first Rogers then Nadine and then Rogers again.

But finally Steve was the one to break the silence.

"Why didn't you tell us," he asked softly. There was very little inflection in his voice, making it hard for Nadine to read him. She had suspected he might open with that question, and part of her was relieved he had. Of all the questions she suspected he had lined up to ask her, it was theoretically the easiest to answer.

But in place of words, it was a small, defeated sigh that made its way unbidden from her throat, her words abandoning her.

Apparently it wasn't so easy.

Her heart sinking, she knew then that she simply couldn't hold onto the secret on her own anymore. She didn't  _want_  to. Just like she didn't  _want_  to run anymore. Her stomach churned again at the realization, a baffling mixture of dread and relief accompanying it. And even if she had wanted to keep the whole of the truth to herself, she also knew she couldn't. Not anymore. She was going to have to admit the truth about Nina. It was the only way to fix this. The only way to salvage what was left of the relationships she had already begun to treasure.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her reluctance and her long-ingrained instincts to stay silent away.

And she started talking.


	57. Chapter 56

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

"I didn't think it was something you needed to know. I didn't think it was important," she said quietly "and—and it wasn't a risk I was willing to take." Steve's gaze shot up to her, his brow furrowing, the pained bewilderment flickering in the Captain's eyes cutting painfully at her before he seemed to forcibly retrain his reaction. From her place roughly between then, Natasha's gaze fixed intently on Rogers.

"Steve," she said quietly, the redhead's tone calming yet cautioning. Nadine's gut churned again even as irritation was suddenly striving to drive away her discomfort. The sense that she was missing something—something important that both Natasha and Rogers knew—niggled at her. It couldn't be something so simple as a grudge left over from what happened in Washington, could it? It was one of the theories she'd been developing since Sokovia, once she'd been able to start thinking rationally on the subject again and the one she logically favoured. Her instincts said no, but rationally she couldn't dismiss the idea. When else would he have interacted with the Winter Soldier but then? She was fairly certain she had worked out exactly when the Winter Soldier had been unfrozen and active over the last fifty years —possibly even sixty, though she was less confident in that—and D.C. was the only time he'd been awake since Rogers had been pulled from the ice. And she was fairly sure the Winter Soldier wasn't active during the War when the Captain had been. So Washington was the logical link. It still didn't quite fit, though. And more frustrating still, it felt like the answer was staring her in the face.

But she just couldn't seem to figure it out. It left her feeling supremely uneasy and even more off-balance. And when Nadine felt off-balance she got defensive. Not that the lingering stress and fear of the last several days was helping there.

"I didn't expect to be working with all of you for longer than one mission to take Strucker's base," she snapped coolly. "I didn't expect it would matter! All I wanted was to get my daughter back, Rogers. In exchange for your help, I gave you Strucker. That was the arrangement. I didn't owe you  _any_  more than that. So no, I didn't volunteer it. Why would I?" Next to her Natasha flinched while Steve hesitated, though whether from her tone or her words she couldn't be sure. But his attention on her didn't waver.

"You didn't think we deserved to know why Strucker wanted Nina?" He asked calmly. Nadine paled. What did he mean by that? Did he know? Her pulse thrummed anxiously. But he either didn't notice her reaction or he ignored it. He just continued on undeterred, though, if anything, his tone softened, sounding almost sad. That alone was bewildering. "You didn't think we might deserve to know that? That we might even need to?" She bristled then, her self-control faltering the in the face of her growing panic.

"It was my business and mine alone, Rogers. Not yours. I don't owe you all my secrets or even an explanation just because we worked together. I don't owe you  _anything_! It is none of your business how I choose to protect  _my_  daughter! She was  _taken_  because someone spilled the secrets I kept from all of you!" As soon as the words spilled from her mouth her jaw snapped shut, angry tears springing traitorously to her eyes. But she forced them away, refusing to drop Steve's unreadable gaze.

What good would they do, anyway?

"He was my secret," she continued, fighting the way her voice threatened to tremble as she steered the topic back to his question and away from Nina. "It's a secret I've done everything to protect ever since I left that place, the place where I was trained, where I knew him. It was my penance, to live with what happened."

Steve's gaze dropped, frustration lighting in his eyes even as they slid shut. His hand rose to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He was trying to keep himself calm, she realized, trying to keep his temper in check.

But she couldn't quite understand why he had to try so hard in the first place. Back on the Quinjet she could rationalize it; it had caught him off-guard. And compounded with the fact that it was the  _Winter Soldier_? But even then, now that she'd had time to think over his reaction since, it still felt too…extreme. There were potential explanations, to be sure—her musings about D.C. one of several she'd been considering—but without knowing more about his past, she couldn't attribute his behaviour conclusively to any of them.

But even now that he'd had further time to process it? She might not know him as well as Natasha did, but she felt she'd gotten to know him well enough to know that he was usually in far better control of himself. He was usually far better at looking past his personal feelings; she'd seen it first hand after Ultron had fled the Avenger's Tower. The Captain had been furious with Stark, but he'd managed to keep his cool and keep his focus on what needed to be done. But then...this wasn't fury or even wholly anger, anymore a small part of her insisted.

Personal. It was personal now where it hadn't been with Ultron.

Now? She glanced to Natasha. The feeling that she was missing something strengthened. Natasha didn't seem at all surprised by her teammate's continued odd reaction. Uneasy, certainly. Worried? Yes, that too, but not in a way that spoke to his reaction being unexplained. Nadine had the distinct impression that her little sister knew far more than she was letting on; she knew why this was unaccountably personal for the Captain.

It was the only explanation Nadine had. It was somehow personal for him. The question was  _how_? She doubted that had much to do with her fledgling friendship with the Captain, though it probably contributed; they hadn't grown close enough for him to feel betrayed enough by her past association with the Winter Soldier for this strong a reaction based on that alone. It wasn't that Natasha had kept it from him; if anything he seemed to trust her more than ever. Was it that the Winter Soldier a personal enemy? Was it more than just that the Winter Soldier had eluded capture in Washington? Had he killed someone close to the Captain, maybe? Perhaps it was lingering enmity from Fury's supposed assassination. But that didn't feel right either. Especially not since she now knew Fury was still alive and that it had been obvious that Rogers and Natasha had known for a while before he'd walked into the Barton house. Still, it stood to reason that whatever it was it was somehow linked to what had gone down in D.C. the previous year when S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen.

But then the thought struck her that perhaps it wasn't enmity for the Winter Soldier at the heart of Rogers reaction. Perhaps, in going head to head against him in Washington, Rogers had learned just how powerless over his own mind the Winter Soldier had been as Nadine had realized in the Red Room. Maybe he already knew the Winter Soldier wasn't a true villain but a victim. It would change how he would have viewed her link to him; not co-conspirators as she'd begun to assume Rogers viewed them based on his obvious feelings of betrayal.

Another piece clicked into place.

When Rogers had learned about what she'd done with the Winter Soldier all those years before? It would mean that he'd automatically seen him as her victim rather than her ally. And given how personal she'd concluded his reaction was to finding out what had happened between her and the Winter Soldier? She suddenly felt sick.

It led to the conclusion that his reaction was linked to something in his past. A friend that had suffered a similar violation? A family member, perhaps? Perhaps seeing that awful video had even evoked something he, himself had experienced? Her heart ached at the thought and her stomach churned violently. But she pushed it aside. She needed to  _think_  without emotions getting in the way!

But that was far easier said than done, just now.

"Do you regret it?" Steve looked up to her again, snapping her from her thoughts. His voice was soft as too many emotions flickered too quickly across his face for Nadine to decipher. "Do you regret what happened with him?" Natasha looked to Nadine in alarm before she turned to Steve, her expression crumpling with exasperation. But she didn't have a chance to admonish him the way she was obviously preparing to. A bitter, humourless laugh burst out of Nadine followed by a spill of word she couldn't quite contain.

"Regret it? How could I not! You think I don't hate myself for what happened?! Even after all the horrible things I've done?! The killing? The torture? The stealing, the spying, the lying? I've had to learn to live with what I was made into. I've never known anything else, so what other choice did I have. It's what I know how to do and I do it well. I've killed. I've lied, stolen, tortured. I live with it because I have to, because I was raised to accept that that was who I was, that it was  _all_  I was good for." An inadvertent, upset sound came from Natasha, the redhead trying to break in, to calm Nadine. But it wasn't enough to halt the stream of words. Her hand fisted at her sides, her nails digging sharply into her palms as her head began to shake. Though whether it was out of some misguided sense of denial or simply another expression of her vehemence, even she wasn't quite sure.

"But what happened with him? It's one thing I can't forgive myself for. Never!" It just exploded out, all her pent up rage, pain, resentment and regret at what had happened all those years before. But then the fire dimmed, leaving her simply tired and heartsick, not even caring that furious, guilt-ridden tears were beginning to spill down her cheeks. "What makes it all the worse is knowing that somehow I ended up with the most extraordinary gift…and he…and then I couldn't even…"

She'd never lost control so spectacularly before.

Save when she'd believed Nina was gone.

A choked sob tore at her throat. Angrily she swiped the dampness from her cheeks, turning her back on both her little sister and the Captain. With an extreme force of will she wrestled her emotions back under control—as best as she was able, at least—hating how out of control, how pathetic and fragile she felt. How could she let herself lose it like that! She was better than that. She'd been trained to be stronger!

"Nadya?" She nearly broke again at her sister's soft, worried murmur. But she forced the feeling aside, turning as she did back to Steve and Natasha. She fought to keep her features neutral, her mask back in place at the dampness glimmering in her sister's sad eyes.

But that was nothing to what she saw in the Captain's face.

Shock. Comprehension. Shame. Pain. Remorse. Sympathy.

Pity.

She was suddenly berating herself for her outburst even more fervently.

She didn't want pity. An anxious tremor thrummed in her chest.

"It's why Strucker wanted Nina," she blurted out, desperately hating the way the Captain was looking at her. Like it wasn't her fault. He shifted, a flicker of something she couldn't quite read shadowing his features. His gaze dropped from hers. The tremoring in her chest intensified, forcing yet more unbidden words to rush past her lips. Only this time, instead of sounding distraught and impassioned, she just sounded sad and defeated.

"It was all to protect her." Inadvertently she was turning to look out of the glass-enclosed office to her daughter. Nina was still lost to her over-exhausted sleep. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. It was hard to believe she'd just been through everything that had happened to her since Nadine had left on that fateful mission to Prague. "Everything I've done since I chose to run—every secret I've kept—it's all been to keep her safe. To keep her away from the life I live, the world that I'm a part of." She sighed. "But I suppose that was an impossible hope."

"Oh, Nadya," Natasha breathed. Nadine's arms once again crossed over her chest at her sister's soft voice, hugging herself tightly. The silence stretched, all three of them ultimately turning to look out at where Nina lay near the Maximoff Twins.

It was finally Steve who broke the silence, his tone soft, almost mournful, but still somehow astonished. It almost sounded like he was speaking to himself.

"So she is Bucky's."

Nadine frowned as she turned back to him, bewildered. "Bucky?" Rogers' eyes snapped to her, growing wide with disbelief. Natasha cleared her throat gently, eying Steve's reaction warily even as she broke in to explain to Nadine.

"James Buchanan Barnes. Also known as Bucky Barnes. You know him as the Winter Soldier." Nadine blanched, a cold prickle shivering across her skin.

"That's his name?" It was little more than a disbelieving whisper. She suddenly hated how vulnerable she sounded. Again.

But after all these years, she had a name. A  _real_  name.

"You didn't even know his name?" Steve's eyes had grown hard. Nadine tensed, a sudden welling of sorrow and renewed remorse mingling uncomfortably with the lingering emotions from her outburst.

"He was the Winter Soldier," she explained sadly, "That was his identity. As far as his handlers and our supervisors were concerned? He had no name beyond that. He had no identity. He wasn't even human to them anymore." Steve flinched, but the hard anger in his eyes didn't ease…not that it seemed entirely directed at her. Her stomach twisted with uncertainty at the realization. She didn't quite know what to make of it.

"And to you?" Nadine froze at his sharp, insisting question. She couldn't fight the sense that her answer now was perhaps the most important one she would give today. And she only had one answer to give. But that didn't stop the way her hands began to tremble where she had them pressed against her ribs.

"He was."

For a moment she was afraid she hadn't said it loud enough to be heard, her voice barely more than a pained murmur. Natasha and Steve simply stared at her; her sister with indescribable sympathy and approval visible in her familiar green eyes; Steve with an unreadable, thoughtful gaze. She forced a breath into her chest, her whole body suddenly aching with the weight of her emotions, her eyes beginning to prickle traitorously again. Nadine bit the inside of her lip, trying to recompose herself before continuing…before sharing the one precious memory she had of him that let her believe that,  _maybe_ , some of the man he'd once been survived inside the Winter Soldier. "If he wasn't, he wouldn't have let me escape that place."

Steve visibly started, his eyes wide again, this time with astonishment. Natasha turned to him, her gaze intent and sharp. Nadine's brow furrowed, the perplexing sense of missing something returning. Especially at the silent exchange passing between the two teammates; Natasha nodding slowly in confirmation to Steve's silent, imploring question. Steve's gaze lowered again, his arms dropping from where they'd been crossed over his chest to brace against the desk as he exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Yet you still took advantage of him," the Captain said, his reserved, even hollow tone nevertheless brooking no argument. Not that Nadine had any to give.

"I know. I have no excuse for that. And I've hated myself for it ever since." Steve glanced up to her, a mess of emotion shadowing his grim, veiled features.

"Did you care about him?" It was asked softly. For a split-, hopeful second Nadine thought she heard a trace of something breaking up the almost detached calm in Steve's voice—his anger breaking through? Accusation? Disappointment? Grief? More pity?—but as she looked up to him his gaze had lowered again to the floor at his feet, his face as blank as his voice save for the faintest crease between his brows. Nadine sighed before forcing the truth out.

"A little. I felt for him. They'd turned him into a shell, nearly a human machine. He was one of the most powerful and skilled fighters I've ever known, but only so long as he had a purpose. Without it, without orders, he was…blank…lost…confused. And the longer he was there, the more certain I was that there was…something, a glimmer of awareness starting to fight through; it was why my supervisor gave me that order; his handlers thought it might bring him back under control without more memory modifications…I—I couldn't help but feel for him." She hesitated, her thoughts struggling to put what she felt into words. Oddly enough, it didn't occur to her hold any of it back. The blank expression on the Captain's face broke, leaving only sorrow and heartache behind as she spoke.

"I regretted for him. I pitied him. I think I even sympathized a bit; we were both trapped in our own ways, him by his programming, me by the Red Room's training…but did I care for him? A little I suppose. I wanted to—to help him…there were times that I…I thought that, perhaps, that I could make it past the programming because of what we—what we were doing. Whenever we—whenever we were alone, he would seem to…I don't know, start to wake up…become almost  _aware_  again. But I—I don't know how much of that was wishful thinking."

"It wasn't just you, Nadya," Natasha broke in, pointedly meeting both Nadine's gaze and Steve's. "I noticed it too. We all did. There was something different about him the longer he was there. Whenever he went up against you." The redhead smiled gently at Nadine. "I even remember asking you about it once, to see if you'd noticed too, just to make sure I wasn't imagining it." A brittle smile tugged at Nadine's lips as she nodded, vaguely remembering that day. But quickly enough it faded. She glanced to Steve again. Though his expression had grown faintly pained, even conflicted, it was also thoughtful.

"I did come to care for him," she continued, "and I—well—I still care for him now. I care for him because he gave me my life. It's because of what happened between us that I ran, and because—it's because of him I made it out."

"Because he let you go? And—and because of Nina? You feel you owe him," Steve confirmed softly. She couldn't quite decipher the comment. But she nodded. There was no denying it anymore. There was no point. She sank back against the low cabinet sitting against the wall behind her, staring through the glass wall to her left, her eyes locked sightlessly on Nina.

"He gave me my daughter, Rogers. She's my reason for everything. She's why I left that place. Why I escaped. She's my second chance. I care for him because he gave me her. I won't regret that. I can't." Had she ever sounded so broken before? She'd certainly never felt so broken. A set of slender hands eased around her shoulders, another body settling next to her as Natasha sat next to Nadine.

She said nothing, and for that Nadine was grateful.

"Does he know?" A brittle, listless smile pulled at Nadine's lips.

"What do you think," she asked sadly. "Neither of us was exactly in a position to discuss it." She sighed heavily when the Captain tensed at her dejected comment. Natasha's hand chafed reassuringly against her shoulder. Absently, Nadine's hand rose to rest against her sister's, drawing strength from the contact. It helped her feel not quite so …alone. Not quite so broken.

"I'm not proud of it," she said, looking over to Steve. "I'm not proud of the circumstances that resulted in my child's conception, Rogers. But I don't regret her. I  _never_  could and I  _never_  will. It's more that I regret  _how_  it happened. I don't care what you think of me, if you think I'm heartless or merciless or even without a conscience. But I'm not that heartless." Natasha leaned against Nadine, reaching out to take her hand in hers. Absently Nadine noted how warm Natasha's hands seemed, only to realize that it was because of how cold hers felt. She barely even realized she'd begun talking again until she heard her own voice.

"He—he let me feel something…he let me feel alive…to feel something that had nothing to do with death. With killing. It was…it was an escape. A way to forget where I was— _what_  I was—for a few desperate moments. I never dreamed…" She hesitated, the tremor returning to her chest as she looked back to her daughter; it was guilt threaded with a wistful, sorrowing wish that things had been different. "If I could have told him? If—if I could've helped him?  _Actually_  helped him? I would have, Rogers. In a heartbeat." His gaze dropped to the floor again before sighing deeply. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him lifting his eyes to focus intently on her. The remorse written in his body language was almost tangible.

"Ryker, I—I'm sorr—" but she cut him off with a sharp look, her chest beginning to ache with the potent well of emotions that had taken up residence next to her heart, her head beginning to throb from the emotional stress of dredging up so much of what she'd fought to keep hidden away even from herself.

"I don't want apologies, Rogers," she said quietly, her voice once again cool and collected. "I made my bed." He didn't back down, though, his unreadable gaze once again heavy on her.

"That doesn't mean you deserved the things I said, the way I acted toward you," he insisted just as quietly, his own tone reserved but distinctly apologetic. Nadine sighed, trying to ignore the virulent little voice that scoffed at the claim. It didn't matter anymore. What was done was done. The whole truth was out and they could all move on now. She had Nina back and she was safe. Nadine could live with her demons and the consequences they brought with them. And she counted what had happened on the Quinjet as one such consequence. It was noble of Steve to offer an apology, more proof that he was a far better person than most. "You were right," he continued. "Your secrets were your own—are your own. I overreacted, and that was inexcusable."

"Please," she pulled away from Natasha, her voice firm as she fixed Steve with an insistent look of her own as she straightened. "It's okay, Steve. You don't have to do this." She grinned humourlessly then, drawing a frown to the Captain's face before she continued. "Had our positions been reversed? I probably would've killed you before you could even open your mouth to explain." A wry grin tugged at his lips. Though his expression was hard to decipher, his posture was beginning to relax. There was still a long way to go before the fragile trust that had been growing between them recovered, but it was a start.

"Honestly? I wouldn't doubt it," he said lightly back. Next to Nadine, Natasha stifled a soft chuckle, one that had Steve grinning over at his teammate. But then his expression grew solemn again as he looked back to where Nina lay on the other side of the glass, his thoughts obviously shifting back to where they'd been heading before she'd interrupted.

"So every lie? Every secret? It really was all to protect her, wasn't it. To protect Bucky's daughter." At the change in the way he said it, the bewildering sense that she'd missed some important detail returned in full force.

"What am I missing," she burst out impatiently, struggling to process what his tone, his body language, his features were telling her. Her mind raced over details—things he'd said, the way he'd said them, things Natasha had said, the glances they'd exchanged—everything she could remember to try and grasp the one, crucial bit of insight she knew she'd somehow overlooked. Her gut clenched painfully as the pieces suddenly fell into place, the only remaining explanation she could think of clicking perfectly. Nadine suddenly felt like she'd just run full tilt into a brick wall.

Her breath gusted painfully out of her chest, every drop of blood leeching from her face to form a jagged lump in her gut.

"You knew him…before…" A sad, nostalgic look crossed the Captain's face as he met her distressed gaze.

"We grew up together," he finally said, sounding like it took an enormous effort to get the words out. Her heart physically ached, her stomach churning. "He always looked out for me when we were kids—when we were young men too. He always had my back. He was also one of my Howling Commandos during the War. We believed him killed in action in early '45—he…he fell—another foot and I could've…" It was then his jaw clenched, his eyes clouding with a storm of emotions. It was painful to witness. It was a long moment before he was able to speak again, his grief and guilt turning to anger. "But it turns out HYDRA got their hands on him instead. Their experiments on him when he was a PoW in '43 helped him survive the fall. Once they had him they…" he drew in a deep, steadying breath, "…well, you know the rest, what they did to him. What they made him." A shuddering breath of her own shook free from Nadine. Dimly she was aware that her vision was beginning to blur. Her arms wound back around her torso, crossing tightly across her chest as though keeping herself from shaking apart, her hands fisting against her ribcage.

"There's nothing I can say," she finally all but whispered, unable to meet his gaze, "nothing that could possibly come close to an adequate apology for what—" her voice faltered, failing her. She swore she could feel his eyes boring into her.

"Nadine," he tried to interrupt, but she ignored the plea. She barely even registered that he'd spoken.

"I know it won't change anything, that it can't, but—but I am so—truly—sorry for what I did. I—I should have been—I should have refused—stopped…I should have been stronger. I was trained to be stronger." Her voice was wavering, the flood of emotions dredging all the guilt and remorse back up to overwhelm her again. She sank back to lean against the cabinet again, her forehead falling to her palm for a moment as she struggled to regain some small measure of composure.

"At the very least I should have told you." After a moment Steve sighed heavily. Her gaze edged toward him at the sound but she couldn't quite manage to meet his gaze.

"You didn't know," he finally said softly. She risked a glance up at the Captain. He looked so conflicted. Nadine physically hurt at the potency of the emotions written on his face, in the tension through his powerful body. "And…and it doesn't sound like you had much of a choice either." Nadine choked, her stomach lurching with alarm at what he was doing.

"No," she choked out, her voice little more than a pained gasp. "Please don't try to rationalize it. What was done to us in that place to make us what we are was horrific. But what I did to him? What I let myself do? How does that make me any better than  _them_?" His expression grew even more pained at the plea.

"Nadine," Natasha broke in, her voice just as thick with emotion as Nadine and Steve's, her green eyes alarmingly bright. "He's not wrong." A small, dissenting sound huffed free from Nadine's throat, her tears spilling over. She viciously swiped them away, her head shaking. Oh, how she wanted to believe that. But she simply couldn't. She couldn't get past the image of  _his_  blank, uncomprehending features where it taunted her from the dark corner of her mind.

"Make it up to him." She looked up to Steve again, her emotionless mask and her control utterly shattered. She was an open book and they all knew it.

"I can't! There's nothing I could do that would—"

"Find him," Steve cut her of firmly. "Find him. And help him." He hesitated then, his features growing wary, "and tell him about his daughter."

"It won't be enough," she said softly. Steve fixed her with a firm, searching look.

"Maybe not. But I think the only one who can make that call is Bucky." Her jaw clenched, a bitter, sullen feeling threatening to overtake her. As much as she wanted to hope…

"You make it sound like finding him will be easy, Rogers." Much to her surprise, the Captain raised a wry, questioning brow at her, something suspiciously like amusement glimmering in his eyes. For a split-second shock overwhelmed her despair.

"Didn't you say once that you're one of the best in the world at tracking down those who don't want to be found?" Frowning, Nadine nodded in confirmation, though Steve's statement hadn't really required any such thing. She suspected she knew what Rogers was about to say next. The pressure in her chest inexplicably began to ease. "Then it stands to reason then that if anyone can track him down, it'd be you." Nadine inhaled deeply, a small, relieved smile coming to her face before she could help it, despite the healthy skepticism trying to keep her from getting her hopes up; she was good, but so was he. But that didn't stop the determination that was quickly growing to push her doubt aside. Perhaps the Captain was right. She would find him. And, perhaps, in finding him—Bucky Barnes—she might just have a chance at finding some manner of redemption, however small. All at once her mind was switching tracks, her training taking over to set the emotional upheaval of mere moments before aside to focus on the task suddenly laid before her.

"I've been looking for him for the past eighteen years," she said softly, earning a faintly startled look from both Steve and Natasha. A faint, amused grin teased at her lips at the reactions. "I got closest when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell—I was on the verge of catching a plane to intercept him at the Mexican border—but I was piggy-backing on the HYDRA agents following him…so obviously I lost him when HYDRA did; I suspect because he caught on that he was being followed. Since then the HYDRA teams that have been tasked with tracking him and bringing him in have been…uh…disappearing." Her eyes glinted with a dark sort of approval that was somehow both unnerving and comforting to the two Avengers. "But I know he's in Europe. If I'm allowed access to your resources? I'll find him." Satisfied, Steve grinned at her, nodding in approval.

"It's a start."


	58. Chapter 57

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Spring 2015**

Well, the pain over her ribs and the ache in her head certainly let her know she was still alive. And though she had no way of realistically knowing, somehow, as her eyes fluttered open, she knew she'd been out for a while.

She didn't recognize where she was at all. It sent a spike of fear through her at the realization, the fear from last week returning with a vengeance. There was a distinct, sterile, medical feel to the room; the walls pale and indistinct, monitors and other such equipment tucked around the room, the cot she lay on more like a gurney than a bed. The last time she'd woken in such an unfamiliar, lab-like room her waking had been followed closely by agony as Strucker had begun his experiments on her. After that, well…waking up in the Twin's apartment had been better, but no less frightening; she hadn't known right in that moment just how precious their company would become to her.

But now, there was no Pietro by her side, and no Wanda.

Not that she was alone, either. No, as she glanced around in panic, her eyes immediately fell to the figure sitting next to her bedside. Someone with fox-red hair and bright green eyes. Her heart was suddenly pounding as the last few hours before she'd blacked out came back in an alarming, adrenaline-fuelled rush. Everything from the pervading fear that something horrible had happened to the Twins to Black Widow—Natasha—being dropped at her side to the revelations about her mother…to the battle in the streets of a flying city…to a Quinjet barrelling down on them, its guns blazing…

A strangled breath caught in her throat, choking her, causing her chest to seize in residual panic. At once Natasha was sitting straighter, leaning forward as she noticed Nina was awake.

"Nadya." No sooner had she spoken than Nina's gaze was snapping over to the other side of her bed where she realized her hand was already caught in a firm, comforting grip. A dry sob of relief tore at her.

"Mom." But neither Nina nor Natasha's breathless exclamations had been necessary. Her mom had already shifted from her seat at Nina's side onto the edge of the bed.

"What were you thinking, you foolish girl," she choked out, her voice thick with relief as she pulled Nina tightly against her. Nina clung back, not even realizing that hoarse, frantic words were spilling from her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry—I—I'm—" She could barely breath between Nadine's tight embrace or the gasping sobs breaking up her voice. But her mom's soothing hums and her hands gently rubbing her back and stroking her hair soon managed to help her calm. As her lingering panic and her overwhelming relief began to fade and Nina fell silent, her last memories before blacking out began to creep back into her thoughts, leaving her trembling in her mom's arms. Memories of the jet coming impossibly fast and the bullets screaming toward them…toward Hawkeye, the boy and… All at once fear and panic was crowding painfully into her chest again. With a jerk she pulled away from her mom, her blue-grey eyes wide and terrified as Nadine's brows creased faintly with worry and confusion. She almost couldn't speak, her voice hoarse as she only managed to force out a single word.

"Pietro—" Even as her mom's face softened another body all but crashed into Nina, a different set of arms wrapping tightly around her.

"He's okay," Wanda's shaking voice spilled out next to Nina's ear. A shudder of relief went through Nina as she hugged the Sokovian girl back. "He's going to be okay because of you." As Wanda pulled away she grabbed up Nina's hands tightly in her own, her overly bright eyes fixed intently on Nina as a smile stretched her lips before she turned to glance over at the cot next to Nina's.

There, propped up and looking barely conscious despite the tired smirk on his face as he watched the two of them, lay Pietro. With a hiccupping gasp Nina was scrambling from her own bed, ignoring her mom's and Natasha's and her own body's protests to all but throw herself at the Sokovian boy. She flinched as a pained breath gusted out of him as she fell against him, immediately pulling away, but his arm had already risen to curl around her, tugging tiredly at her until she was settling onto the bed next to him.

"Thank you." It was little more than a hoarse whisper, one that Nina felt more than heard as he said it into her pale hair. Hot tears blurred her vision as she peered up at him, her heart thundering in a mix of residual fear and overwhelming relief as she met his undeniably grateful, emotional gaze. A shuddering breath hiccupped out of her at the tenderness in his blue-green eyes. It was more than she could process in that moment, her own pain and relief beginning to overwhelm her. Even as she pressed her face against his neck, Wanda had circled the bed to settle on his other side, her arms wrapping around them both as she trembled with barely restrained tears of her own.

What had happened? Nina shuddered again, the memories at once coming back with nauseating clarity the instant the question burst into her head. She remembered the Quinjet. She remembered Pietro whisking her out of the line of fire before going back for Hawkeye and the boy. She remembered realizing he wasn't going fast enough; he'd been exhausted, she understood now, his face in that split-second before he'd gone back flashing in her mind's eye. She remembered the panic and desperation flooding through her, adrenaline pushing her to run faster than she ever had before.

She remembered crashing into him just as the bullets did.

She remembered the line of fire searing along her ribcage.

And she remembered watching him fall, patches of blood beginning to bloom darkly on his shirt before unconsciousness had taken her.

She remembered something had happened. Something unexplainable…unless…

…no…she couldn't have possibly…that couldn't have been her…

Could it?

Her heart felt like it was trying to pound its way up her throat. Weakly, she lifted her eyes to Wanda even as she felt her mom's gentle hand land on her back. As blue-grey eyes met blue-green, Wanda didn't even have to say anything. Even her small, barely perceptible nod was unnecessary. Nina saw the answer to her silent question in her friend's eyes. She wasn't even sure if Wanda had seen the question in her thoughts thanks to her powers or had simply seen it on her face. Either way, there was no mistaking her answer.

Nina had powers.

Sure, in the abstract, she'd known she might develop them; Pietro and Wanda had believed as much from the beginning. It had been the purpose behind Strucker's experiments and she had survived those agonizing doses of the Sceptre's power, something Ultron had so bluntly theorized to mean that, since she didn't die, her body had likely accepted the changes brought on by the alien device's energy.

But now that it seemed to be a reality?

She felt Pietro shift beside her, feeling him craning his head slightly to look down at her even as the ghost of a confused frown played about Wanda's features. It was then that she realized that her knuckles had gone white where they had suddenly fisted in Pietro's hospital gown. With a supreme effort, Nina forced her fingers to relax, reaching out to Wanda to awkwardly embrace her back across Pietro's heavily bandaged chest.

All while silently pleading for the other girl not to say a word.

She couldn't say precisely why she felt the sudden urge to keep this discovery to herself. For all she knew, everyone knew already anyway; whatever she had done had saved Hawkeye too, after all, which meant that he'd likely seen what she'd done and possibly told her mother and the rest of the Avengers.

But there was still the chance that the Avenger hadn't seen. In which case, part of her knew she should be telling her mom…but something in her chest fluttered nervously at the idea. It was baffling! She trusted her mom more than anyone, and had never been afraid to tell her anything. But this? She could barely wrap her head around the idea that she was now definitively Enhanced. She didn't even know what exactly it was that she could do! She vaguely remembered the feel of something heavy and hazy bursting free from somewhere deep inside her chest, making the air around her feel still and warm and  _safe_. Like she was safe and protected within her own little bubble. Had she actually  _stopped_  the bullets? Not all of them, obviously; just as vaguely as she remembered it forming, she thought she remembered it faltering as her last remaining strength had been poured into...whatever it was she'd done.

The same warm, heavy feeling began to bloom weakly in the centre of her chest again.

No, she needed to come to terms with it herself before she brought it up with her mom.

And she was scared.

She was scared of what she now was. Of what she could do, whatever that was. Of what  _to_  do, now that she had powers.

Of what her mom would think…

And with a jolt and wash of nausea, she realized there was more than just her Enhancement she was going to need to come to terms with. There was also everything her mom had kept from her. The nervous flutter intensified into a thrum of hurt. A small, petty part of her baulked at revealing the new truth of what Nina was to her mom in the face of the monumental secret Nadine had kept from Nina. That it was only fair to keep an equally monumental secret from her mom. She forced the thought away, refusing to let herself think like that. Her stomach churned at the thought. Or maybe her stomach was just churning.

But despite the sudden hesitance she felt at confiding in her one constant confidant, the feel of her mom's hand gently rubbing her back still managed to comfort her, soothing the ragged ache threatening to grow in her chest.

"Nina," Nadine finally said softly, her hand stilling on Nina's back, " _solnyshko_ , you need to rest. You're still healing too." Nina turned, looking up into her mom's visibly concerned gaze. Exhaustion suddenly rose through her at the subtle command, as though her mother's words had reminded her body of just how abused it was.

But even as her eyes were growing heavy, she didn't want to move. For the first time in days she felt truly safe right where she was, curled up against Pietro's side with Wanda close by and her mom sitting next to her, watching over her. She felt protected.

It was only when Wanda smiled encouragingly, squeezing Nina's hand in silent support that she finally surrendered to her mom's gentle urging, letting the older blonde help her extricate herself from the Twins' sides and back to her own bed.

Thankfully, despite the small, nameless little fear that she'd feel alone away from the Twins, the feeling didn't manifest. Her mom's reassuring presence and the knowledge that the Twins were only a few feet away kept the irrational fear at bay. Even catching sight of Natasha sitting quietly at the end of her bed, her features sympathetic and watchful, soothed the anxious feeling deep in Nina's chest that still refused to abate even though there was no question that everyone who meant the most to her—her mom and the Twins, even Natasha now—were safe and by her side. That she was safe. That she wasn't alone. It would probably be a long time before those feelings ever really went away, she supposed. Especially now that she knew the truth of what her mom was…and the truth of what she'd become.

Another shiver went through her even as her mom helped her settle back onto her own bed, carefully tucking the covers around her. The ache in her side flared, abruptly reminding her that she hadn't escaped unscathed. She forced those thoughts away too. There would be plenty of time to think on it later. But for now, she just needed to sleep. She could feel her body beginning to grow as heavy as her eyelids as her mom sat next to her, leaning in to place a kiss against her forehead.

"You had me so scared,  _solnyshko_ ," Nadine was murmuring, her voice thick with emotion. "I thought I'd lost you." Exhausted as she suddenly was, Nina could feel tears beginning to prickle behind her eyes again. Unconsciously she leaned into her mom's touch, the little girl in her wanting nothing more than to curl up against Nadine and simply  _know_  she was safe and loved; to forget that her entire world had been utterly shaken apart and pieced back together in such a haphazard way that she didn't entirely recognize it anymore. "The instant I'd realized they'd taken you—" Her mom's voice faltered, causing Nina's own breath to hitch painfully. It hurt seeing her usually perfectly collected mother so close to losing control. Though she'd resolved to wait to worry about everything that had happened, seeing Nadine so visibly upset? She couldn't help the words that bubbled up to finish her mom's unfinished thought with one of her own.

"—you went to the Avengers," she mumbled, her voice so small and pained it was nearly a whisper. Nadine nodded, her expression resigned. But Nina found that she couldn't stop, the hurt blooming in her chest of its own accord to push the pained words from her mouth. "You never told me—you kept who you are from me."

Nadine smiled sadly, brushing a strand of Nina's pale hair back from her face. "I know,  _solnyshko_. We need to talk. And we will." She cupped Nina's face then, her pale gaze fixing on Nina's. Nina nearly shivered at the chaotic emotions simmering just below the surface in her mom's familiar eyes. But then they were gone, leaving only loving concern on Nadine's face. "But first you need to finish healing." Reluctantly, and with a small measure of relief that nevertheless left Nina feeling faintly uneasy, Nina nodded in understanding.

And with her mom sitting next to her, softly stroking her hair with her aunt and her dearest friends nearby, Nina let sleep take her again.


	59. Chapter 58

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Spring 2015**

Steve owed her his life. And Nadine hadn't said another word about it. She hadn't allowed him to speak long enough to bring it up or even thank her for doing it. Grabbing him the way she had? She'd put her own life on the line. He easily could've pulled her over with him on that lifeboat. And she would've realized that. In the instant it would have taken her to spring into action, she would've known it.

But she'd done it anyway. Regardless of the way he'd treated her. Regardless of the way he'd utterly disregarded everything she'd done over a split-second judgement call…a horribly wrong call. As soon as his thoughts had cooled, as soon as he'd been forced to get his head on right when going up against Ultron in Seoul, as soon as he'd had some time on the ride back to New York to really think over what he'd learned, he'd known just how gravely he'd messed up. And hearing out Nadine on the Helicarrier had only enforced that.

He'd risked everything just because he'd let his emotions get the better of him.

Steve's gut had clenched the longer Nadine had spoken, the more she'd opened up and revealed about what had happened all those years before. He'd never expected her to be so forthcoming. Certainly not without a great deal of reluctance and prompting, even insistence on his part.

Well, there had been hesitation at first, but it was disconcertingly easy to tell that it had stemmed from discomfort at breaking of her long habits of secrecy more than any attempted refusal to explain or any attempts at dishonesty or deflection. At least, as far as he could tell. After all, like Natasha, the blonde assassin was trained as a highly skilled spy even if she didn't delve much into that particular side of their profession.

As far as he could tell, though, there was no deception on her part. She'd sounded brutally honest, right down to her inadvertent implications—and direct ones too—of how she viewed her own part in what had happened between her and Bucky.

When Ultron had first revealed the extent of the blonde's history with his friend, Steve had been rashly and irrationally inclined to think of her the same way; that she'd been complicit, indifferent. That she'd even had some sort of unfeeling, even cruel intent. He should have seen through the irrational conclusions brought on by his initial gut-reaction on the Quinjet. Part of him had; he'd seen how affected she'd been and had known what that meant. Someone who didn't care wouldn't have reacted the way she had. Even then, distracted and unreasonable as he'd been, he'd somehow known that. But another, louder part of him had simply refused to acknowledge it at the time; it had been howling in pain at the reminder of the horrific things his best friend had been forced to endure.

Even now, his chest still felt tight at the inescapable realization that had settled over him in that office on the Helicarrier: she'd had little more control over what had happened than Bucky had. Furthermore, she seemed to be refusing to admit it to herself. But the more she'd said, the harder the conclusion was for Steve to ignore. And judging by the bright-eyed heartache on Natasha's face? The redhead had been equally aware of the blonde's stubborn inability to see that she'd been just as much a victim as Bucky had been.

Neither had there been any mistaking the relief that had surfaced on Nat's face before then when she'd realized Steve's perspective of Nadine's role in what had happened with Bucky had genuinely shifted, that he'd admitted to himself just how wrong his initial impression had been; naturally she'd been able to read as much on his face. That had been a relief in and of itself.

Natasha had told him off in no uncertain terms back on the Helicarrier over what had happened. After he'd tracked her down, before she'd disappeared into the infirmary after her sister and niece, she had confronted him on his behaviour back on the Quinjet. His own self-reproach was nothing compared to the dressing down Natasha had given him. And that was saying something.

He'd never seen Natasha so furious.

_You have no idea what it was like in that place. You don't know_ —y _ou weren't there._

More than that, he could still barely wrap his head around the things she'd revealed in doing so.

_I don't remember a time before the Red Room. Just like Nadine. We were both brought in as babies. And we both formally began our training when we were just barely seven years old. Seven! I killed for the first time before I reached my tenth birthday. We all did. We had to. You have no right to judge, Steve. None._

She hadn't even let him so much as ask if she was alright in the aftermath of the battle before she laid into him.

_When you got an order in that place? When you were given a mission? You saw it through or you died. It was as simple as that. We didn't have the luxury of learning right from wrong. We learned to survive or break. And if you broke, you died._

_We didn't know anything else._

And Steve knew he deserved every word.

Further, the redhead had bluntly warned him what would happen if his poor behaviour toward Nadine continued once their inevitable conversation came around: if Steve chased Nadine away, if Nadine left because of his behaviour toward her, Natasha would be following. End of story. And Steve couldn't say he would blame her. He couldn't say he would blame either of them for leaving after everything that had gone down before and during the confrontation with Ultron in Seoul. It was why he'd insisted they have the talk there and then, on the Helicarrier. He had been sure that, the instant they disembarked, Nadine would take her daughter and disappear.

And he had admitted as much to Natasha even before he'd heard Nadine's explanation: that he wouldn't blame them for leaving. Not that he had really needed to, it seemed. Watching his reaction to her dressing down had apparently, and unsurprisingly, told Nat everything she'd needed to know.

It was scary sometimes how well Natasha could read him.

Much to his relief, and without him even saying a word on the subject, she had realized he wasn't hung up anymore the way he had been on the Quinjet and believed that he had cooled down enough that she trusted him to be in the same room as her sister again without losing his temper. Provisionally, of course, dependant on how open Nadine was to any form of conversation with him.

And that had gone surprisingly…well, it hadn't exactly been great considering the subject matter. But it had been encouraging.

Seeing Natasha's reactions had been a big part of why he'd been okay with her being in that room when he confronted Nadine. Not only as a potential mediator or someone to rein him in if needed, should the need arise, but because he trusted her judgement. Natasha had been raised with Nadine and they'd both received the same training. She knew how to read the blonde assassin just as Steve had learned how to read Natasha. And Steve trusted Natasha implicitly.

His shifting opinion aside, though, it hadn't meant that his emotions had been any less unbalanced. Despite his newfound insight—and sympathy—about what had happened and why Nadine had acted the way she had, it had still taken far more willpower than Steve wanted to admit to to keep his head…something else Natasha had seemed very aware of if her careful scrutiny of him had been anything to go by. But then, it wasn't entirely surprising. It was Bucky they were talking about, after all. He wasn't too proud to admit he'd let his temper and his irrational conclusions get the better of him more than once since Ultron had uttered those brutal words. But he'd still managed. Mostly.

As had Nadine, if he was being honest. Far better than most would've handled someone unwelcome prying into their most closely guarded secrets while at their most vulnerable. For the most part, at least. But that was wholly understandable. He was certain that, in her shoes, he would not have coped half so well. Hell, his behavior on the Quinjet put proof to that. Her own emotional control had been even more visibly strained than his, just as she too had had moments where she'd lost control. And Steve couldn't blame her in the slightest. He was actually rather impressed that she'd maintained the level of control she had. After all, he'd been little better. And he didn't have anything like her excuses. But she'd also been very obviously upset with herself for having let them get the better of her the way they had. Christ…she'd been very obviously upset. It still ate at him, knowing that he was a big part of the reason behind her outburst. If he'd only kept his head better…on more than one occasion…

But she wouldn't let him apologise for his actions on the Quinjet. Why? But as soon as the question materialized in Steve's thoughts he knew why with painful certainty.

Because she didn't feel like she deserved it. She thought bearing his reproach and blame was another part of her penance for what had happened between her and Bucky. And if that realization didn't suddenly hurt more than his earlier, mistaken idea that she'd betrayed them, or that she'd been no better than the people who had torn Bucky apart to make him into the Winter Soldier. She felt she didn't deserve forgiveness.

So how to prove to her that he didn't feel that way anymore? That he didn't blame her the way he so irrationally and foolishly had on the Quinjet? That he never should have felt that way?

And then it hit him. That was exactly how. He'd have to prove it with action. With his actions. And with his trust. It would be hard—despite knowing better, some of his irrational, instinctive feelings from before Seoul still lingered—but it was the only way to apologise and atone for his actions toward her if she wouldn't accept his words.

Not that he wouldn't still try, of course. It felt like the least he could do.

Steve sighed, internally berating himself again. Responsible as he might be, he couldn't change what had happened, either. He simply had to keep moving forward. He stared out over the Compound stretched out before him, trying to recompose himself.

Like the Avenger's Tower, this new facility was more than Steve could have dreamed. Stark had really gone all out. But then, when did he not. The man spared no expense. Even unfinished, it was an incredible facility and an invaluable resource and asset for the Team, to be sure. Now it was just a matter of getting the Team back on their feet to make use of it. And to fill the Team back out. But Steve couldn't quite get himself to focus on that task just yet.

He couldn't seem to help but dwell on everything that had happened since Seoul. No, it had started farther back than that.

As far back as Prague, if he was being honest.

"You didn't listen, did you." Steve turned to see Fury striding toward him, hands in his pockets. As per usual, his one good eye was fixed intently on Steve, making him feel like the former director knew far more than Steve would've liked. And considering what he was saying? "You messed up, Captain. You messed up big time, and it nearly cost you your team. Not to mention your mission." For once, Fury's face was not so hard to read as it usually was. His mouth was set in a hard line of disappointment.

Steve sighed, leaning forward against the railing his hands were braced against. He looked out over the Compound. It may be quite the facility, but Steve wasn't exactly in the mood to appreciate it just now.

"Believe me, I am already well aware of it," he responded sedately. Fury lifted a dark brow at the grim, obviously self-admonishing tone.

"I figured as much. You're sharp, Cap. And you're usually good at compartmentalizing and doing right by your people." Fury's critical gaze intensified as he came to a halt next to Steve, his relaxed posture belying his grave mood. Steve glanced to Fury. He wasn't wrong. Fury stared right back, his gaze overtly assessing just as it was disappointed. "What changed? Why was this time different?" Steve's jaw clenched. He had been asking himself the same questions since Seoul. Having Fury echo them? Especially in that tone of his that suggested he already knew the answer? Steve had to force his jaw to unclench to even answer.

"I don't know."

"I think you do." Steve's gaze returned to the view beyond the facility for a moment before returning to Fury. He was still wearing that frustratingly knowing look. The Captain straightened, his arms crossing over his chest even as his eyes narrowed at the former director.

"Natasha told you about what happened on the Quinjet." À la Fury himself, it was far more of a statement than a question. Somehow Steve rather doubted that Fury didn't know. In fact, he suspected that Natasha had likely briefed him, possibly even asking for advice on top of confiding in the former director. He already knew Fury and Nat had had a chat about Banner after the results had come back for the missing Quinjet. Why wouldn't they have talked about Seoul as well? There was little doubt Natasha looked up to her former boss as a mentor of sorts. It also was entirely likely that Fury had already known about Nadine, Bucky and possibly even Nina before Steve did; the man had known a surprising amount about Nadine even before officially meeting her at the Barton house, after all. Fury nodded in confirmation regardless.

"Romanoff debriefed me." Just as he'd suspected. Steve inhaled deeply, reining in his instinctive, defensive reaction. Now was not a good time for that.

"You know Bucky's a sore spot for me."

"Yet you seemed to set that aside just fine when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell."

"Then we have different definitions of 'just fine.'" The corner of Fury's mouth twitched. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, leaning them against the railing like Steve was.

"You know what I mean," he said, sounding almost like he was scolding Steve. "Despite finding out what had actually happened to your buddy, you still put what needed to be done first. You kept your eye where it needed to be; on taking down HYDRA. Once that was accomplished, then you turned to Barnes. You made the right call then, not the emotional one." Steve's gaze dropped to the floor.

"It felt pretty emotional," he said tightly.

"Where Barnes was involved, yes," Fury countered, his dark eye heavy on Steve. "But where S.H.I.E.L.D. was concerned?" Fury sighed then, looking out over the Compound himself before turning to lean back against the railing, his arms crossing over his chest. The Captain couldn't help but glance over to him at the move, taking in the former director's grim, even resigned expression. "Even I couldn't make that call even though I knew it was the right one." He looked back to Steve, his features shifting from grave to something else Steve couldn't quite decode. "But you did." Steve met Fury's impassive gaze.

"But that call wasn't personal for me. Not the same way it was for you." Fury nodded absently, ceding to Steve's statement.

"True. But you could've let your revelations about Barnes distract you. You could've let yourself fixate on him and what happened to him instead of on what needed to be done. Which is exactly what you let happen on the Quinjet." Steve frowned; it was either that or grimace.

"I hope this wasn't supposed to be a pep-talk, Fury, 'cause you're certainly not making me feel any better about any of this." Fury's eye glinted, shrugging. But he didn't drop Steve's gaze, his own growing almost challenging.

"It's not," he said dismissively. "I'm just trying to understand what was going through your head on that Quinjet." Well, Steve still didn't entirely know that himself. All he knew was that it led to him making the wrong call.

"I don't know why it got to me," he finally admitted, not caring about the thread of defeat woven through his tone. "All I know is that I overreacted. I didn't think any of it through. I—I couldn't think. I let it get to me." Fury levelled him with a faintly reproachful look.

"I do recall pointing out that Ultron was trying to divide you. And he did that by distracting you. He obviously knew about the Ghost and he knew she was one of your best chances to track down his base of operations. That's why he blew her secret about Barnes. It's why, when that didn't quite work the way he'd intended, he blew all her covers; she was closing in on him." Steve started at the news that Nadine's covers had been blown by Ultron. He hadn't known that. Fury didn't miss his reaction, his unsympathetic gaze glinting knowingly. But he didn't pause in his thinly-veiled reprimand. "He wanted to distract you. Did he know it would be personal for you? I don't know. The point is, he wanted to keep her and all of you from making that final leap for as long as possible. He was trying to turn you against one another, and you let him."

"I know," Steve admitted dejectedly, "I know, and I know that's wholly on me." Fury nodded, not disagreeing with him but not quite condemning him for it either.

"Well…I won't dispute that. You benched Ryker on an emotional call and it almost cost you the larger mission. There's no question there. But it wasn't just you. He got to Ryker too. He got to the rest of the Team. It's what he was good at, what he did far too well; Ultron, he was…malignant, like a cancer. He found ways to eat away at you. At her. At Romanoff and Banner and Stark. And the Maximoff girl picking apart your heads in Johannesburg likely didn't help matters either." Steve's frown deepened as he shot Fury a disparaging look.

He couldn't deny that, since Seoul, he'd been considering that part of his problem on the Quinjet had come out of the lingering effects from Wanda's manipulation. He'd been having a hard time keeping his emotions in check even before Ultron had sent that video. It was a reasonable conclusion to draw. Especially when, on the way back to the Tower from Seoul, she'd admitted to messing with Stark the same way when the Team had taken Strucker's base. That it was her manipulations that had fed Stark' determination—desperation, even—that had ultimately seen to Ultron's creation.

But every time he considered that Wanda's manipulation had directly influenced his reaction on the Quinjet, he dismissed the idea out of hand. It felt too much like a cop-out, an excuse.

And Fury seemed to pick up on that easily. Either that or he simply knew Steve well enough to anticipate how he'd see it.

"I know. You don't like it. But there's no knowing if it contributed or not. And yes, ultimately it doesn't matter either way. All I know is  _all_  of you weren't acting like yourselves throughout this entire offensive; you all let your emotions cloud your focus, risking the mission; Stark…well, he's probably a bad example since he's always impulsive and has a habit of taking things too personally despite appearances, but he still took things a step further than even he usually does by creating Ultron in the first place; Romanoff nearly abandoned the Team, running out on not only the mission, but all of you. Banner did run. Thor was probably the only one whose head she messed with who didn't let it get to him. Not that it's easy to tell with him." Fury fixed Steve with a hard look. "The point is, what I do know is that none of you were on your A-game." Steve's jaw clenched again, holding back a heavy sigh. As much as part of him didn't want to admit it, he supposed there was some truth to what Fury was saying. But he still refused to shrug off the blame for his poor choices on what Wanda had done to his head, even in part, even if the reasoning behind it was sound. His actions had still been his own, so he would own up to them.

"Maybe," he hedged reluctantly. "But it doesn't take away from the fact that all our actions—and especially my actions—compromised the mission." Sombrely Fury nodded, accepting Steve's assertion as respect and even a glint of admiration appeared in his eye. It was an odd feeling to be sure, to have Fury looking at him like that. Fury straightened then, nodding in a way that indicated he believed his work was done…whatever it was he'd set out to do in the first place. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. And with that he turned and began to walk away.

"I have to hand it to you, Cap," he threw over his shoulder before pausing to look back for a moment. "There aren't many people out there who wouldn't take the opportunity to ease their conscience over something like this." A tense, drained grin tugged at Steve's lips. And he had to hand it to Fury; the man was certainly good at handing out virtually indecipherable comments that could easily be either criticism or approval.

"It's the right thing to do," was all he could say in response. Fury's eye glinted as that knowing smile teased his features.

And the former director left Steve alone to his thoughts without another word.


	60. Chapter 59

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Spring 2015**

The conversation—confrontation? Nadine wasn't even entirely sure—with Rogers had both gone far better than she'd anticipated, but also hadn't gone quite so well as she'd hoped. Not that she'd honestly known what she'd even expected.

She certainly hadn't expected it to be quite so…personal for him. Well, she had but she also hadn't. But his reaction when he'd found out about her and Barnes—God, it still felt so strange to think she could actually refer to him by  _name_  now—certainly made far more sense in hindsight, that was for sure.

Not that knowing the whys exactly made her feel the least bit better. If anything, it just left her feeling worse. She couldn't help but think that she'd understand if he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Instead, he'd asked her to  _find him_. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around that one either. Well, on one hand, she could—she was the best, after all—but she also couldn't. If their positions had been reversed? If it had been Natasha instead of Bucky? Best or not, she wasn't sure she'd want him anywhere near her sister ever again, even if he was her best chance of finding her. But of course, he was a far better person than she was…

No, she hadn't been exaggerating on the Helicarrier; had their positions been reversed, she would have killed him without hesitation.

Yet, for some baffling, inexplicable reason, he was willing to let her stick around. He was  _trusting_  her to find Barnes even if he wasn't quite up to trusting  _her_ ; she very much doubted he genuinely trusted her. It was far more likely that it was just for Barnes and Nina's sake. She was certain that whatever trust had been growing between her and the Captain had been fractured irreparably after Seoul.

But that was beside the point. It really shouldn't matter. Even if, the more she thought about it, to harder it was to deny that part of her was still willing to learn to trust the man. Just as she had been coming to before what happened on the Quinjet. But his actions on the jet had stung, shaking her growing trust in Rogers. Yet she couldn't say definitively that it had felt like a betrayal, either. At the time, yes, but now? Now that she knew about Barnes? Now that she understood the  _whys_? She could understand his obvious interpretation that she had been at fault. She couldn't fully blame him for his reaction. Not when she was at fault. So on her end, at least, no matter that part of her rebelled at the very thought, she could recognize that she hadn't been burned so badly as she imagined he had. And it left her the tentative trust in him from before Seoul weakened, but not shattered.

His trust in her, on the other hand…

She was fairly sure it was over, that his trust in her had been broken beyond repair. The hope of trust or friendship between them that she'd seen at the Barton farm seemed well beyond reach, now. A small part of her was—against her better judgement—hopeful that that wasn't the case. But she very much doubted it. So why get her hopes up.

So she wasn't even allowing herself to hope that things would revert to the way they'd been before Ultron had spilled the first of her secrets. Not in the slightest. And in that she had certainly been proven correct in her expectations. While things admittedly weren't as bad as she'd anticipated initially, they weren't exactly great either. Rogers was perceptibly distant with her now, even if it wasn't quite so obvious as during those first few days in the new Avengers Compound. He'd barely even looked to her as they'd all disembarked from the Helicarrier. And now? That was even more confusing. One minute he seemed to be keeping his distance, leaving the room when she entered, while in another he seemed to be trying to make up for it, being almost overly polite and civil. She could only guess that his treatment of her was fuelled by a lingering resentment on his friend's behalf and a distinct note of guilt over that resentment and what had happened because of it. Not that she really had a great deal of interaction to base her assessment on. She'd spent almost every waking moment near Nina since arriving at the Compound, only seeing the Captain when he stopped by to check on her and the Maximoff boy. He would just look in from outside the room, his face virtually unreadable save for concern and posture tense.

And hadn't those moments been odd.

That the Captain was noticeably disappointed in himself over his behaviour was becoming increasingly obvious. Though, she couldn't entirely be sure if it was just because he'd risked the mission and subsequently his team—more than enough reason, really—or if his behaviour toward her was factored into that as well. There was a particular moment the day before when, upon catching the way he'd been looking at her instead of Nina with a distinct air of regret and consideration the last time he'd visited the infirmary to. For a brief, conflicted moment she had started to wonder if, perhaps, he genuinely regretted the way he'd reacted toward her. But she couldn't be sure, and neither did she want to risk getting her hopes up by presuming that was the case. So she allowed that small, disparaging voice to convince her that his regret was limited to the near failure of the mission and the danger his friends had been put in because of his rash decision. It only made sense, after all.

Still, despite her doubts, she had to wonder if he was, in fact, trying. At first, she believed she was imagining it, attributing her observation the previous day to wishful thinking. On the handful of occasions when she'd ventured beyond the infirmary, she'd been conscious to keep her distance, certain that he would want little to do with her regardless of the tentative truce reached in the Helicarrier's infirmary. But as the Avengers had settled into their new facility, and Nadine temporarily into the infirmary, she was finding their minimal interactions in the ensuing days to have been almost...friendly.

It wasn't a huge shift, barely enough to be considered as much, but it had happened; he'd given her a small smile the day before as he left the infirmary. It was enough of a shift that, despite her better judgement, a little part of her was trying to hope that there just might be chance that the potential for a friendship they'd begun to build before Seoul might not be wholly lost. At the very least, a friendly professional relationship might not be out of the question. The fact that he'd actually smiled at her despite the shadow of what had happened made it seem possible, at least.

But if it ever happened, it was still a long way away, to be sure; it wasn't going to happen overnight. But it was baffling to her, to think that they could potentially move past what had happened on the Quinjet and the revelations Ultron had set in motion. That, perhaps, she wasn't going to get shut out.

Even more encouraging, even as it was baffling, was the revelation that Steve really hadn't shared what he'd learned about her past with the Winter Soldier or Nina's paternity with anyone who hadn't been on the Quinjet. He'd even assured her of as much, that he'd keep her secrets before he'd left the infirmary on the Helicarrier that awful day. She hadn't even asked him to. She suspected Fury knew—or had at least figured most of it out, given what he'd revealed he knew of her back at Barton's farm—and she similarly suspected that at the very least the Maximoff sister knew. Though, if it had been inadvertently learned or not, Nadine wasn't entirely certain. The girl was still learning to control her abilities and couldn't seem to help what she picked up sometimes.

But she did know that neither Thor nor Stark nor anyone else at the facility seemed to know. Natasha had assured her of that herself. None of them had begun looking at her any differently, save perhaps with a measure of acceptance; also a baffling development if she was being honest. She wasn't used to being accepted. Not once people knew what she was. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but it also left her with a strange feeling of warmth deep in her gut that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Most important, though, was that Nina hadn't heard a word on the subject. And that was something Nadine was immensely grateful for. Telling her might have been something Nadine had been dreading since the moment she was born, but she most certainly didn't want anyone else telling her.

Not that she had any idea about how to go about telling Nina in the first place anyway.

Hell, it was hard enough now having just talked over what had happened to her, about the 'whys' of why she'd been taken by Strucker.

It was something she'd discussed with Natasha at great length beforehand, agonizing over what to tell Nina and what to hold back. It was an internal debate she'd been having for years, really, ever since she'd made the tentative decision that she would begin revealing the truth to Nina when she turned eighteen.

In theory…

She honestly didn't know if she would have been able to go through with it. Well, it was a moot point now.

The bulk of that conversation with her sister had happened once they'd reached the new Avenger's facility Stark had been setting up. Nina had been freshly settled in one of the private rooms in the Compound's infirmary right next to the one Pietro Maximoff had been assigned. The medic had insisted it was merely a precaution; her wound was healing well, but he'd explained to Nadine that Nina's system had been severely strained and her energy worryingly depleted, necessitating a bit more observation and rest to get her back to one hundred percent.

It had left Nadine at somewhat loose ends, though. She supposed she could've started on her task to track down Barnes, but she wanted to return to her Workshop first, to retrieve what work she'd already done before turning the whole of her focus to it. And she wasn't going to do that until Nina was back on her feet.

She certainly hadn't wanted to start thinking on her daughter's already strong relationship to the Twins, either. She wasn't just sure how she felt about that yet…so that was another thing she wouldn't allow herself to think on.

It meant that she'd had little else to occupy her thoughts beyond just what to tell her daughter about her past and how that past had impacted Nina. That was something she couldn't just refuse to think on for the time being. Which meant that it was those thoughts she'd bombarded Natasha with outside her daughter's room.

"I don't want her to know about what happened in that place," she'd said dejectedly to her little sister, her forehead pressing into the palm of her hand, "about the things I did. The things that were done to me. She's had enough of her innocence stolen from her already. I couldn't—" her voice had faltered then. Natasha's hand had landed sympathetically on her arm, but she hadn't said anything at first. She hadn't figured out yet just what to say. Nadine knew  _that_  feeling intimately. She'd sighed heavily, feeling the weight of what she knew had to come pressing down on her along with everything that had happened in the week previous. The days of keeping her daughter in safe and blissful ignorance were firmly in the past and she knew it. That definitely didn't make it any easier, though.

Finally Natasha had sighed too, shrugging helplessly while her features grew veiled with thought.

"You need to tell her the basics at least; about the Ghost, your past—growing up in the Red Room, training as a spy, an assassin…the Treatments…that you met her father there—" Panic and protective outrage had flared in Nadine's chest then, her mind automatically jumping to what came next.

"I will not tell my daughter that her father was a brainwashed super assassin," Nadine had interrupted sharply then, "forced to serve the whims of the men who kidnapped and experimented on—tortured—her! I won't put that burden on her shoulders. She's already been through enough." Natasha's eyes had flashed irritably.

"Did I say you had to tell her that part right now?" Nadine had flinched at the reproof, but she had stubbornly refused to back down. Natasha had let out an aggravated sound then, but her voice had nevertheless calmed when she'd resumed, satisfied that Nadine wasn't about to interrupt again.

"I'm not saying you should tell her everything right away," she'd soothed despite her waning patience with Nadine, "just the basics: you met her father in the place where we were trained, you got pregnant and that you got out—you ran—to keep her  _safe_." She'd fixed Nadine with a firm look then, her expression once again sympathetic even if her eyes had become unreadable. "That's what Nina needs to hear most right now, I think. That she was always your priority. But she also needs to know that you're going to tell her everything one day. Because you know you're going to have to tell her all of it eventually," Natasha had pointed out gently. "You don't have a choice in that." Nadine had deflated, her blooming panic at her sister's word fading as she'd explained, unable to deny the truth in it.

"I know," she'd murmured in resignation, "But not today. She needs to heal, first. I won't risk breaking her with this." Natasha's arm had wrapped around her shoulder then, her fox-red head resting against Nadine's own pale blonde one. She'd welcomed the contact, leaning into the embrace for a moment as it helped ease the worry and sick anticipation growing in her gut. But then the anxiety in her chest had begun to build again until she couldn't quite manage to contain it. Not in her sister's company.

"God…how can I tell her?" she'd groaned, her head falling again to her hands. Natasha had looked sympathetically on, her hand falling to absently rub Nadine's back in a small attempt at comfort. It helped a little.

"I don't know, Nadya. I really don't know. That's something you're going to have to figure out yourself. But you do owe her something. She deserves to be told something. Some sort of 'why.' She needs it before she can start to recover from everything she went through."

"We never had a 'why,'" Nadine had responded softly, threads of bitterness in her voice. Natasha's gaze had dropped, her eyes bright with pain.

"I know." But then she'd looked up to Nadine again. "But there is for Nina. And you can give her that." Nadine had sighed heavily.

"I know you're right,  _lisichka_. I know she needs it, that I can give her that much. Some…closure, of a sort. But I don't know how much it will help. She'll  _know_  I'm leaving things out. I'm almost more afraid of how she'll react to that than to what I do end up telling her. She's hurting enough already from knowing that I kept so much from her."

"You'll be able to tell her the rest, someday."

"That's what scares me the most."

Even now, having resolved to only tell Nina enough just now to help her start healing without crushing her beneath the weight of the whole truth, the anxiety of knowing that one day she'd have to share the rest trembled uncomfortably in Nadine's chest.

Nina sat silently, almost uncharacteristically so, her hands clasped so tightly between her knees that her knuckles stood out stark white against the dark material of her lounge pants. She'd listened in silence as Nadine had related her past almost exactly as Natasha had recommended, telling her daughter about her history without delving into to the more unpleasant details—like  _how_  the best were weeded out from the weak in the Red Room, or precisely what sorts of lessons she'd been taught in that place. From there she had begun outlining the 'whys' of why Nina had been targeted the way she had. She had explained what she'd known of the Treatments Nadine had been subjected to when she'd been Nina's age and that she had in turn passed on a small measure of that Enhancement to Nina. She'd been hard pressed not to wince at the way Nina had paled when Nadine had told her that the Treatments were why Strucker had been so interested in Nina in the first place. And her voice had gone hard when she'd told Nina that one of her old groupmates had been the one to sell them both out on an old grudge, and that that groupmate had been dealt with when Strucker's base had fallen to the Avengers.

For the most part, though, it was only more recent events that Nadine didn't hold back details on, like how she'd been truly making her living all these years, how she'd been lured away from Vienna, giving Nina's kidnappers the access they needed to take her to Strucker and how she'd thrown in with the Avengers to get her back—save what had happened on the way to Seoul…

Yet, for all that Nadine knew Nina better than anyone else alive, Nadine couldn't entirely make out how she was taking what she was hearing. Nina's face was blank and impassive, the emotions flickering in her eyes shifting and changing too quickly for even Nadine to read. When Nina had picked up on how to keep her face blank, she had no idea. Maybe she'd always been able to do it, but had just never had reason to show it. Or maybe she'd learned it during her ordeal. Either way, Nadine wasn't sure whether to feel sad about it, or proud. All Nadine could pick up on was shock. Shock and disbelief and hurt. She'd barely even reacted when Nadine had told her 'Nadine Ryker' wasn't even her real name.

One thing she could tell, though, was that Nina was chafing at how vague certain aspects of Nadine's story were. And Nadine could understand that. She could sympathize intimately. She had been conditioned to dig when she knew things were being kept from her, the natural impulse to question what she was told further heightened and encouraged through her training as a useful trait in a spy…until it had backfired, of course. That her daughter was the same way was made perfectly clear in the way Nina's frame tensed every time Nadine's story grew unmistakably vague.

Particularly when Nina's father entered the narrative. It was the only time she saw a truly genuine reaction from Nina; she'd jerked in her seat, her blue-grey eyes going wide as they snapped to Nadine from where they'd been fixed on her knees. Beyond telling her he was her father, Nadine had very pointedly withheld just  _who_  he was, only describing him to Nina as a combat specialist who had been brought in to train them; she hadn't shared his name and certainly not his designation. It was painfully obvious that Nadine had watered  _that_  down and she knew it; it had literally been all she'd said about him. She couldn't bring herself to say any more than that and neither could she manage to come up with any believable misdirection to assuage the painfully evident curiosity in her daughter's eyes; it felt too much like lying.

And she very much did not want to lie to Nina about this. It was bad enough that she couldn't muster the courage to tell her daughter everything she knew about Barnes. She couldn't have lied even if she'd wanted to.

But she should have anticipated that Nina wouldn't let her get away with being vague this time. Not on this. Not when Nadine had deflected every time Nina had asked about her father since Nina was small. Not when she could sense that the answers she'd always craved were almost within her reach. Nadine should have known better.

"Tell me about him. About—about my father." Just as there was no denying the plea in Nina's soft voice, there was no mistaking the steel. Nadine hesitated, her chest feeling tight. "Can you at least tell me his name?"

It would be so easy to tell her.  _Your father's name is James Buchanan Barnes_. Just a name. She knew Nina deserved at least to know that.

But it wasn't that simple. Even just giving her his name wouldn't be simple. It was an answer that would only lead to more questions. Complicated questions.

Dangerous questions.

And her daughter was far too persistent to just sit on anything Nadine gave her. She would search and research and she would eventually figure it out. And Nina wasn't a spy. She didn't have the training to be discreet in her searching. To cover her tracks from the kinds of people after Barnes. Not yet.

It was too great of a risk.

To all of them.

Arguably, he was one of the most wanted men on the planet. Not only were Nadine and Rogers looking for him, but Barnes was also still being hunted by HYDRA. Not to mention the dozens of countries and myriad Intelligence agencies and mess of private organizations around the world almost as desperate to get their hands on him as they were. It was dangerous enough that Nina's father was who he was. But if she were to start digging? If she knew? If she knew her father was the  _Winter Soldier_? Nadine nearly shuddered at the thought.

Sooner or later the Winter Soldier's identity was going to come out. It was inevitable. He'd made too big a splash in D.C. when he and Rogers had gone head to head on that overpass. Nadine could still remember the dread that had coiled painfully in her gut when she'd found Nina caught up in the breaking story back when it had happened, her expression at once enthralled, awed and horrified as she watched the footage of the Winter Soldier opening fire on a street of civilians before engaging in a jaw-dropping fight with Captain America.

Nina wasn't ready to know yet. Not when she'd just had her life completely torn apart. She needed to heal first.

And so did Barnes.

No. Nadine would find him first. She and Rogers would get him somewhere safe and protected from everyone else hunting him. They would make sure that he was really himself again, free from the programming HYDRA had inflicted on him.

Then she would tell Nina.

But until then she had to hold fast. She needed to keep her resolve…and she needed to prepare Nina as best she could. Her stomach clenched and roiled at the thought of doing anything else. But she still needed to tell her  _something_.

"He is Enhanced too. You were—you were targeted because  _both_  of us are Enhanced." A pained look settled on her daughter's normally cheerful features before she looked up to Nadine, her eyes bright.

"Is that why you never told me about him? Why you won't talk about him?" Nina's voice was so small and sorrowful that Nadine physically ached. How could she tell her daughter even a fraction of the truth? She was already hurting so much with what little Nadine had already told her! And now that she was a part of the world of HYDRA and the Avengers? She was already in enough danger without knowing her connection by blood to the Winter Soldier.

"I know I've said it already," she finally said, choosing her words carefully, hoping they came out right, "but it was to protect you." Nina tensed, her face hardening. Nadine's breath hitched painfully and she couldn't stop herself. "But—" Nina froze, her eyes warily meeting Nadine's as the blonde assassin was suddenly struggling to put what she wanted to say, what she felt she needed to say, into words. After a long moment she sighed.

"But it was more than just that,  _solnyshko_. It  _was_  to protect you, but… When I met him? When I met—" she hesitated, barely restraining his name where it had leapt forward to the tip of her tongue. But the impulse was too strong, the desire to assuage some of the plea in her daughter's eyes too powerful. "—when I met James?" A sharp breath gusted out of Nina's chest, her eyes growing bright as she latched onto the small, precious detail Nadine had given her. Nadine nearly smiled despite the different brand of guilt she felt that she had to withhold any of it in the first place. She set the feeling aside and pressed on.

"What happened between us…it…it was a dark time in my life, Nina, in a dark place where I was  _made_  into what I am. What happened between us was not a romance…it was not even a real relationship; I didn't even know his real name myself until, well, until very recently. It was…it was an escape." She faltered, but somehow managed to press on despite the growing shock and horror on her daughter's face; she  _needed_  her to hear it and to, maybe—hopefully—begin to understand. "The only good thing that came out of that place was you,  _solnyshko_. I got out; I escaped from that place because of you. But he…he doesn't know about you. I—I couldn't risk it."

She winced as the horrified shock on Nina's face threatened to melt into an expression of betrayal. Nadine drew in a deep, steadying breath, forcing her own clenched fingers to loosen. This was more than she had planned to say, but she suddenly  _knew_  Nina needed to hear it. "He doesn't know, Nina, and I owe it to him to find him, to tell him. I owe him that much. He…Nina, he not only gave me you, but he gave me my life too. He let me go when he should have killed me the night I escaped that place. He deserves to be told. Until then, it's too dangerous for anyone to know…

"Even you." Oh, there was so much more to it than that, but she couldn't find the words to say it. Her throat closed up before she could say anymore. Before she could do more than allude that Nina's father had been an unwilling villain. Before she confirmed it.

But despite the overwhelming hurt and bewilderment in her daughter's eyes, Nadine could feel nothing but relief as a glimmer of consideration, however reluctant, began to surface as well.

Without another word, Nina stood, nearly fleeing the room. Leaving Nadine alone. With a heavy sigh, she let her head fall to her hands. As much as she longed to chase after her daughter, she knew Nina needed time. Time to think, to process. To cry and rage and work through every conflicted, angry emotion Nadine's confession had created. So, hard as it would be to give her space to come to terms with what she'd learned, Nadine was resolved to give her that.

She couldn't afford not to.

Otherwise she'd risk losing her daughter for real.


	61. Chapter 60

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Spring 2015**

Nina was so far beyond reeling she didn't have the words to even come close to describing the feelings cascading through her. On the outside, she supposed she looked like she was holding it together well enough, but inside she was on the verge of falling apart.

She had wanted answers…well, she'd certainly gotten them.

Her father's name was James.

And yet there were still things her mother had held back…Nina's stomach churned at the thought of what they might be. Considering what she had been told? It had to be because it was somehow worse. And for all that Nadine had definitely been holding back, she'd still told Nina a great deal.

Biting back a shuddering sob as it tried to make its way out of her quickly clenching chest, Nina rushed blindly through the Compound, searching for the only other source of comfort she could think of in that moment. As soon as she found it, tears of mingled relief and heartache sprang to her eyes.

The Twins.

Before they'd even had a chance to fully register that she'd appeared in the door of Pietro's room in the infirmary, she was crossing the room to crawl onto the bed next to them, curling against Pietro's side as the first wracking sobs burst out. She was so overwhelmed that she barely noticed the Sokovian boy's arms wrapping tightly around her or that Wanda had quickly circled the hospital bed to climb up behind Nina, wrapping her own arms around the shaking blonde to shelter her between the siblings.

It was a long time before her sobs quieted and she was able to think somewhat clearly again.

Not that she wanted to think just then. There was too much racing through her head, too many bewildering and painful thoughts and feelings crowding and pressing against her brain.

Oh God, what was she even supposed to think?! To feel?! How was she supposed to process any of this? Perhaps just part of it, one element? That she could've handled. But all of it? It had taken every ounce of self-control she had to keep the dense, heavy feeling deep in her chest contained, keeping her newfound powers tightly leashed lest she lose control completely; she didn't know what would happen if she let them out. That on top of everything her mom had said? What she'd been told was already nightmare enough without risking hurting her mom or anyone else because she couldn't contain her new powers. She couldn't bear that too.

But how could Nadine have kept this from her?!

Yet…a small logical part of her understood why her mom had kept it from her.

And another part of her suddenly wished she didn't know any of it.

Not the truth behind why she'd been taken—because experiments done on her mom gave Nina Enhanced traits, however diluted…

Not how Strucker had known about her…

Not how she'd been used as leverage by HYDRA against her mom for years, Nadine willing to do anything rather than risk Nina's safety…not that it had ultimately made any difference…

Not what her mom really was…

She was The Ghost; a master assassin, infamous and shrouded in mystery, capable of completing missions others wouldn't—couldn't—take to hunt and kill other assassins. Nina's breath hitched as that thought circled, echoing through her brain.

Her mom was a  _spy_ —no, that wasn't quite right. Nadine had been trained to be a master spy—just like Black Widow—and to be a master assassin, and it was as an assassin that she made her true living. Her mom  _killed people_ —other killers, part of her tried to rationalize…and the thought actually helped…until Nina started to feel ill that it did, that she was letting that sooth her horror at the revelation. What was wrong with her?

Was something wrong with her?

When Ultron had told her that Strucker was dead, regardless of her anxiety in the robot's presence and her own muddled, disoriented state, an odd, relieved sense of satisfaction had flooded through her. She'd been glad…thankful, even…to hear that he was dead. She'd then promptly felt sick, but she was fairly certain that had more to do with her body's reaction to the German Baron's experiments than any evidence of a conscience.

When her mom had revealed that the woman who had all but given her to Strucker was dead? When her mom had hinted that she herself had been the one to do it? A shudder of relief had fluttered through her gut then too.

And when Wanda had whispered to her and Pietro that she had torn Ultron Prime's central processor right out of his chest when she'd believed he'd killed her brother, her voice laced with grim vindication? Nina had only felt a sense of relief then too.

Did that make her a horrible person? To be happy—no, not quite happy; satisfied?—that the people responsible for hurting her and the people she cared about had been punished? Permanently? She honestly didn't know…and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to find out. She supposed it was only natural, though. She nestled closer to Pietro, something in her chest easing slightly as he simply held her close without a word.

She now found she understood far better how the Twins could feel the way they had toward Stark. A small, dark part of her suddenly wanted to make someone  _pay_  for what had been done to her…and for what had been done to her mom.

It sounded awful. She just knew there was a lot Nadine had held back about her childhood and the place where she'd grown up; it had lingered like a dull, wounded shadow behind her eyes. Her mom had been trying to hide it, but Nina had seen through her attempt anyway. She'd just  _known_  her mom had been trying to spare her from knowing just how awful that place—the Red House? Red Room?—had been, just as she'd  _known_  from the hollow, haunted undertone to her mom's almost clinical description of that part of her life. And in suspecting that her mom had held back the worst of it? It only made her sense about just how cruel that place had been deepen even more. Somehow, it seemed even worse for not knowing. Despite the overwhelming hurt and anger and resentment that had been building in her chest the longer her mom had spoken, the horror and heartache on her mom's behalf had quickly grown to nearly overshadow it.

But it was what Nadine had said about Nina's father that was arguably affecting her most. She'd wanted to know about him her whole life, after all. And it was far easier to let one of her mom's revelations drown out the others…at least for a little while. The heavy, dense sensation deep in her chest started to build again as her emotions did. She choked back a sob as her tears tried to start again.

She'd always had this idea in her head that whatever had happened between her parents had been a tragic, romantic story—hence why her mom didn't like to talk about it; because it hurt too much. Perhaps it had been a short-lived, forbidden love affair? Or, less pleasantly—her imagination had supplied as she'd grown—that he'd been forced to leave them…or had even died. As beautifully tragic as the idea of him having died was, she had never been able to quite accept that. She'd never been able to fight the feeling—or was it simply a deep-seated longing wish—that he'd still been out there, somewhere.

Long-held wishes aside, though, she knew that it was far more likely that the truth was less pleasant than she had hoped; well, she hadn't been wrong, there… As she'd grown as her imagination had begun to reluctantly consider more rational possibilities, she'd known that it was just as likely that her father had abandoned her and her mom, or even that her mom had left him, taking Nina with her. Or that the truth was even worse…

Another part of her had even long begun to wonder if he'd never known she existed, if that was why he'd never reappeared in their lives and her mom never mentioned him. It was a thought that never failed to make her heart ache, but realistically she'd had to admit it was possible—more than possible, apparently. She'd even found herself wondering on occasion if her mom had even known who her father was…

Well, she apparently hadn't known his name, so Nina had been partially right on that score…

Since she was a child she had hoped, despite knowing the odds were stacked against it, that one day her father would come back into their lives, having never wanted to leave. Having always wanted her. But it was a childhood fantasy and she'd known it for nearly as long as she'd had it; she'd been sheltered growing up, definitely, but she hadn't been quite that naïve. But it hadn't stopped her from letting it linger like a comforting beacon in the back of her mind.

Now? Naïve as she knew she was about some things, Nina was not stupid; she had read between the lines easily enough. Not only had Nadine said as much, but Nina had seen as plain as day that there had been nothing truly romantic between her parents. It was a revelation that hurt far more than she'd anticipated. Though she knew realistically that it didn't always happen, Nina had chosen to believe that, despite whatever had happened that kept her father from her life, her parents had at least cared about each other, hopefully even loved one another. That she'd been the product of something…special.

But her mom's explanation had made that particular hope seem painfully unlikely.

Her stomach twisted painfully enough that a whimper escaped her as a horrifying thought struck her; had her mom been…she couldn't even bear to finish the thought, the possibility suddenly making her feel sick as her mind turned the possibility over and over, examining it from every angle even as she tried desperately to push the thought away. After everything she  _and_  her mom had been through, she didn't think she could bear to add  _that_  to the list. She couldn't bear to think that her mom might have been hurt that way on top of everything else. But the thought faltered then, prompting a shudder of relief to ripple through her.

There had been no hate in her mom's voice, no revulsion or anger in it when Nina's father had entered the narrative of her life. Something hard and sharp that Nina hadn't realized had been forming in her gut eased as that realization raced through her mind. Surely if  _that_  had been what happened… Considering who her mom apparently was? What she was capable of?

Nadine had said she needed to find Nina's father, to tell him about her. That he didn't know about her because it had been too dangerous for  _him_ , for  _anyone_ , to know, even Nina. That Nadine owed him. Did women say that when they'd been attacked? Nina knew that such assaults wreaked psychological havoc on their victims, so she supposed it was possible. But considering the almost emotionless way her mom had spoken about her old groupmate—the one who had sold them out to Strucker—just as she had when she'd first mentioned her father? It was possible that Nadine's intentions for once she found James— _James_ —were of a vengeful nature… Maybe she had read her mom wrong…that was also very possible.

But part of Nina rejected that thought almost violently. When speaking about her old groupmate, something had shifted in her mom; her voice had gone soft and cold, her face impassive and ruthless as her eyes had glinted fiercely. In that moment, she had looked and sounded undeniably lethal.

But she had very much  _not_  sounded like that when she'd been talking about Nina's father. Not in the slightest. There hadn't even been a fleeting glimpse of it. Especially not after Nina had asked to hear more about him.

She'd sounded…sad.

Nina might not know her mom as well as she'd always thought she had, but Nina knew her well enough to know that. She hadn't been holding back, hiding her feelings the way Nina knew she sometimes had—remnants from her intense spy training, apparently. Unless she was faking it….would she know how to do that? Surely. Was it wishful thinking to believe Nadine had been telling the truth? How could she ever hope to know for sure if her mom was being honest knowing what she knew now? Nina's gut twisted again. No, she thought, forcing the thoughts aside. She couldn't let herself think like that!

It was her mom…but her mom had also kept so much from her…all to protect her! Her head was beginning to spin. Her fingers tore into her hair, clutching at her skull as thought it could still her thoughts. Nearly panting with the effort, she managed to somewhat force them back, holding it all at bay enough to let one thought through at a time.

No. Nina had to believe her mom had been honest with her. Nina had to believe she knew Nadine, or what tenuous hold she had over herself—her sanity, it felt like—would unravel.

So she was fairly sure she knew Nadine well enough to just  _know_  that she had cared for her father in some small way, secrets or not. She hadn't been in love with him, as far as Nina could tell, but she had still cared on some level. There had been nothing but sorrow and remorse and an underlying plea for Nina to understand when she'd spoken of the man, of her need to find him…of how she owed him for  _both_  their lives.

How he'd spared her mom's life, and thus Nina's too.

She just couldn't see her mom caring that way for someone who'd attacked her.

No, while she knew now that her parents hadn't been in love, how there'd been no romantic tale of how Nina had come to be, she also knew deep in her gut that she wasn't the product of an attack. 'An Escape,' her mom had called it. Nina shuddered. The feeling she'd gotten that the place where her mother had been raised was far, far worse than Nadine had tried to let on, inadvertently or otherwise, washed over her again.

Oh God…why did her life have to be so complicated!

When she'd asked about her father growing up, she'd just wanted to know his name…that, and that he'd  _wanted_  her…and now she knew unequivocally that that wasn't true. How could it be when he had no idea she even existed? A wrenching sob threatened to tear through her chest again.

"Nina?" Wanda's soft, concerned voice finally managed to make its way through her chaotic thoughts. It was only then that she realized the brunette had been softly trying to get her attention for several moments. Lifting her head from where it had been buried against Pietro's chest, she met the other girl's worried blue-green eyes. "Are you okay?" Automatically an assurance that she was rose to her lips, but Nina couldn't say it, the words sticking painfully in her throat. Her eyes felt gritty and her head was beginning to feel like it was stuffed with wool from crying alone…not to mention the horribly disarrayed thoughts hurtling through her brain. And her whole body was beginning to ache, the emotional pain settled deep in her gut manifesting physically just as she was beginning to feel the strain on her body from struggling to hold her newfound powers in check, the dense haze beginning to flare and ebb. Slowly she shook her head, her eyes beginning to water again.

"No," she finally said miserably, her throat tight as she laid her head wearily back against Pietro's chest, her voice wavering wretchedly. "No, I'm not." Beneath her cheek she felt Pietro tense, but as he felt Wanda glance to him from behind her he was reluctantly relaxing again. Wanda's hand chafed reassuringly along her arm, the other girl making a soft, soothing humming sound as she leaned her own head against Nina's shoulder. Unconsciously Nina's arms tightened around Pietro as she nestled further against him.

"You will be, though," the older girl finally said, reaching out to clasp her brother's hand, her voice turning faintly haunted, like she wanted to believe it but couldn't quite manage it. "We all will be. It just might not be for a while." Neither Pietro nor Nina could say a word at the mournful, hopeful assertion. But it was finally Pietro who spoke, his fingers tracing idly over Nina's hand. Impulsively Nina threaded her fingers with his. The ache in her chest from everything her mom had told her eased just a little bit more.

"What did your mom want?" he asked tentatively, his voice still faintly hoarse from discomfort and exhaustion thanks to his injuries. She fought the urge to further burrow into his side. For one thing, she could feel him tensing as she pressed against his still healing wounds, swallowing his reaction because he knew she needed the comfort. She consciously loosened her grip, suddenly realizing he had to be in pain thanks to her hold on him. The mostly healed bullet graze on her own side was burning fiercely, so she could only imagine how he was feeling given that his injuries had been so much worse than hers. He couldn't quite hold in a faint sigh of relief, squeezing her fingers gently in silent thanks.

Behind her she felt Wanda shift, resting her chin on Nina's shoulder so she could peer down at the younger girl. It was then that Nina realized she hadn't answered Pietro's question.

What could she say? What did she  _want_  to say? She faltered for a long moment before inadvertently letting out a pained sigh.

"She told me the truth," she admitted softly. What else could she say? Sure, in the coming days she was probably going to end up telling them most, if not all of it, but right now she couldn't muster the strength. Besides, Wanda had probably already picked up a fair bit of it thanks to the way Nina's thoughts had been dwelling on her mom's tale; given how little control the brunette seemed to have over her powers at the moment? Even though she seemed almost perplexed in Nina's presence at times now? The Sokovian girl had already admitted there were times Nina's mind seemed like a blank space, now, especially when she was having a hard time subduing her new abilities.

But Nina couldn't say it would surprise her if Wanda had already picked up a fair bit from Nadine herself in the short time she'd known Nina's mom. The idea that Wanda might have known even some of what Nina had only just learned hurt, but considering how Wanda seemed to consider most of what she gleaned from other people's minds akin to secrets told in confidence? She could understand the older girl not saying anything…if she even knew anything. It still stung a bit to think about, though. She felt Wanda tense slightly behind her. Nina's eyes squeezed shut, suspecting Wanda had picked up on what she'd just been thinking. Guilt washed through her on top of everything else. Gently, Wanda squeezed her arm, silently letting her know that it was okay. It didn't really help. Pietro shifted minutely beneath her again, craning his neck slightly to glance down at her face.

"And that's a bad thing?" She felt Wanda glance to her brother, nearly tempted to grin at the exasperated look she imagined the other girl was giving him. "What?" Yup.

He shifted again, and Nina swore she felt him brush a soft kiss against her hair. Something soft and warm fluttered deep in her chest despite the crushing heartache determined to make itself at home. Wanda settled her cheek back against Nina's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Nina," she finally said softly, her sorrow and sympathy clear in her voice. Nina couldn't say anything in return, the hurt and the resentment and the bewilderment rushing through her again at the sentiment even as her tears began spilling over onto her cheeks again, running down to soak Pietro's hospital gown even more than she had already.

The Twins just held her, letting her grieve.


	62. Chapter 61

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Spring 2015**

It had been just over a week, nearly two, but Nadine was hopeful that things were beginning to improve. For most of that time, Nina had barely spoken more than a few words to Nadine. And, hard as it had been, Nadine had let her be. At first, Nina seemed to be actively avoiding her altogether. But as each day passed? She wasn't tensing quite so much when she spoke and yesterday, she hadn't pulled away when Nadine reached out for her. Small changes as they were, it was still a marked improvement, one that relieved Nadine to no end. It appeared to indicate that Nina was making some headway in processing not only what had happened to her and why, but everything else that Nadine had told her when she'd finally been released from the Avenger's infirmary. And dare Nadine even hope, but she might possibly even be beginning to understand.

At least, so Nadine hoped. Natasha seemed to think so, judging by the satisfied, assessing looks the redheaded Avenger kept shooting mother and daughter, at least. Not to mention the confident comments Natasha always had ready when Nadine gave into confessing her worry that Nina must hate her.

"How could she not? Everything she went through? Everything I kept from her?"

"She just needs time, Nadine," Natasha had soothed on one such occasion. "She's bright and she's compassionate. She'll come around. She has a lot to process." Nadine had lifted her head from her hands then, shooting her sister a baleful look—another rarity that had come out in her moment of candour.

"And when she realizes she can't forgive me? I ripped her life apart, Natalia," she'd snapped back, the bite tempered by dejections. Natasha had merely raised a skeptical brow before settling next to Nadine, looping an arm around her.

"You? You're not the only one to blame, Nadya," she'd countered gently, though her own tone had developed a sharp edge that caught Nadine's attention. "And what you did? You did it to protect her. She will forgive you, Nadine." Mercifully, Natasha hadn't tried to deflect the blame nor diminish Nadine's role in what happened. They both knew it would be a hollow gesture. She was just as much responsible—to blame, really—as Ultron or Strucker for Nina's pain. More so, even, since Nina was her daughter and they were her secrets.

"You know Nina better than anyone," Natasha had said with an air of certainty, "can you honestly see her holding this against you?" She'd had a point that even Nadine in her moment of despondency couldn't entirely dispute. She might have inherited Nadine's stubbornness, but Nina had never been good at holding grudges. And the reminder had done wonders to dispel Nadine's melancholy.

At least, until the next time her insecurity had reared its head. And the next. And Natasha had stood firm in her own resolve, never failing to do her best to lift Nadine's spirits when they fell low.

Similarly, not unlike Natasha, Nadine kept catching the Maximoff girl wearing relieved looks of her own when she thought neither Nina nor Nadine were paying attention to her.

That the Twins had been worried about Nina was unmistakable. They'd rarely left her side since Nina's talk with Nadine. Or rather, she rarely left theirs. The brother hadn't yet been released from the infirmary, but he was sure to be cleared by the doctors at the facility any day now that Dr. Cho had declared his injuries were effectively healed. He was just waiting on a final few checks and he would be declared good as new. As it was, both he and Nina had been given a clean bill of health far quicker than any average person would've with comparative injuries.

As Nadine knew from years of witnessing scraped knees, abrasions and the odd other injury that inevitably came with growing up as well as participation in her different martial arts clubs, one of the few hints of Nadine's Enhancement that Nina had inherited was her ability to heal faster than was strictly normal. Not by much, mind—Nadine still healed far faster than Nina was capable—but enough that by the time Dr. Cho had arrived at the Compound, still a little worse for wear herself, there was little the doctor's Cradle technology was needed for where Nina was concerned. Pietro, on the other hand, had been subjected to multiple rounds with the technology to heal his more intensive injuries; though his particular Enhancement resulted in an accelerated healing factor as well, the damage the Quinjet's bullets had done had been extensive, slowing his healing factor down from sheer overload.

It meant that the boy had been confined to his room in the infirmary for longer than the near week Nina had been kept to recover from the graze over her ribs and her exhaustion. It also meant that his sister and Nina could almost always be found there with him.

They were proving to be the support Nina needed while she was avoiding Nadine, either distracting or comforting her as she needed. And it was helping. Whether she wanted to or not, Nadine couldn't deny that. The Twin's company put Nina at ease. She was smiling again with them.

It was something Nadine felt simultaneously grateful for and resentful of. And wasn't that a pleasant feeling. But grateful or not, convinced or not that the Twins did genuinely have Nina's wellbeing at heart, Nadine still couldn't help but worry. But then, she'd already spent the last eighteen years worrying about her daughter; hazard of being a parent…and a highly trained super assassin who happened to have a daughter. So there was no stopping now, especially not considering everything that had happened.

It meant she kept a close but discreet eye on the three of them, shadowing the infirmary or wherever else Nina happened to end up within the facility. She was always careful to keep her distance, of course, knowing full well that Nina would not appreciate her hovering; she never had, especially once she'd reached her teens. They rarely knew she was there if she could help it. It was one bonus of being a highly-trained spy, that was for sure. But she'd come too close to losing Nina too many times over the last few weeks to deny the impulse. Because, though Nina was safe now, the lingering anxiety and fear from those few harrowing days still gnawed at Nadine. It meant her protective instincts were still on overdrive, making her almost irrationally nervous when she didn't know where her daughter was.

But she was working on it. The more Nina seemed to recover, both physically and emotionally, the easier Nadine was finding it to push past the constant need to make sure Nina was safe.

It also helped to realize that she wasn't the only one looking out for Nina…besides the Twins, of course.

For all that she could be brutally blunt and forthcoming, Natasha was undoubtedly a master at the subtle too; she just generally preferred to be upfront. But with Nina she put all her skills to good use, building on the bond they'd formed in the bowels of Ultron's base to provide Nina with another shoulder she could lean on despite Nina's current aversion to anything to do with her mom. At first it had been the odd, innocuous visit to the infirmary to 'check in' on Nadine, Nina and the Twins. Then, once Nina had been released and had taken to spending some time alone in the common area of the Avengers-only wing of the Compound, it was just a matter of 'happening' to be in the same room, Natasha working on something or other or even simply passing some of her own leisure time. And she never made it seem like she was checking up on Nina or keeping an eye on her, no matter that Natasha was undoubtedly doing that too—Nadine suspected that Natasha was almost as worried about Nina as she was.

But it wasn't the priority, and Nina seemed to be aware of that on some level. Furthermore, whether Nina realized it or not, as Natasha had confessed to Nadine, she was making herself available to her adopted niece. And, slowly but surely, Nina was beginning to respond to that. Soon enough she was starting to lean on the older woman, taking up the silent offer of company even if she wasn't up to talking to much just yet; the simple offer of comfort that came from the company of someone who genuinely cared. More than once, especially in the last day or so, Nadine had come across Nina sitting quietly not far away from Natasha, simply seeming to take comfort in her new Aunt's presence. And it seemed to be enough. Not for the first time, Nadine was more grateful than she could express for her sister.

And then there was Rogers.

Nadine still wasn't quite sure what to think about him.

After the conversation on the Helicarrier, once they'd made it to the Compound, Natasha had told Nadine everything she knew about Barnes and his relationship to Steve. Everything. By the time she had fallen silent, Nadine had heard everything Natasha knew about his close friendship with the Captain from their childhood onward, all the way through to his deeds during the War and what little they knew from his time as the Winter Soldier; on that last front, there wasn't much that Nadine didn't know already, but she appreciated it regardless.

It meant that she now had a far better understanding of why the Captain had reacted the way he had, and why he was still fighting the remnants of that reaction around her.

And she almost, almost, felt like she knew Barnes. Or at least, the man he had been.

She really hadn't been all that far off when she'd compared what she believed her reaction would have been had their situations been reversed, had she and Rogers been in each other's shoes and Natasha and Barnes reversed. Barnes was the brother that Steve had never had. They were best friends and more; Barnes had been all Steve had once his mother had passed away. Losing him in 1945 had hit the Captain hard and finding out what had been done to Barnes in the years since had devastated Steve. It didn't help that he also felt responsible for what had happened to his oldest friend, deserved or not. That was certainly a feeling Nadine could relate too; she'd felt something similar leaving Natasha behind in the Red Room. It meant she could now understand why he couldn't seem to stand being around her for too long.

So when she'd begun to notice the Captain similarly keeping a watchful eye on Nina? It hadn't taken long to figure out why. Nina was Barnes' daughter, and Barnes was Rogers' oldest friend. Given what she knew about the Captain and his noble streak? His loyalty to those he cared about? It was only natural that he'd take an interest in Nina's wellbeing. Especially since Barnes couldn't. He was careful to keep his distance where Natasha was reaching out—probably because Nadine had always been close by, she imagined—but to Nadine his motivations, his feelings even, were as clear as though he wore them like a jacket. He hadn't been trained to hide his emotions the way Nadine and Natasha had, after all.

But since he'd begun keeping an eye on Nina himself, it also meant that today wasn't the first time Nadine had found herself in his company. Mercifully, he'd finally stopped trying to apologise, something Nadine was grateful for. For all that he had the best intentions, it never failed to make her feel worse. It was something he always managed to pick up on no matter her attempts to keep it to herself, making him feel guilty, which ultimately made her feel worse still. She appreciated the thought—really, she did—but it didn't feel…right. Deserved. She hadn't done anything to earn it. Not so far as she was concerned, at least. Besides, he was always far too tense when he tried. And because of that, she couldn't fight the pervasive little feeling that he was only doing it because he felt he had to, not because he felt it truly owed. She just could not understand how he could mean it, given what she now knew about him and Barnes. She didn't think she could if it were her.

"I didn't expect her to look so much like him," he said unexpectedly, pulling Nadine from her thoughts. The comment was spoken so quietly Nadine nearly hadn't heard it. They'd already been standing in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, neither quite sure how to break their unspoken impasse. The last few times they had met like this, it hadn't broken until one of them had retreated.

Instinctively she tensed, but she quickly forced the feeling away. Not before he noticed, though. A faint expression of what looked almost like apology crossed his face before his attention returned to Nina. She immediately dismissed it, deeming it more likely that she'd misinterpreted the look. "She even smiles like him," he added softy. He sounded almost…awed. Wistful. Nostalgic.

Nadine could only nod tightly. She wouldn't know; she'd never seen Barnes smile. He seemed to pick up on that too, sighing softly.

"Sorry. I know you— It's just…strange…having a piece of him right here," he explained. She nearly started, only just barely keeping the reaction to herself. He was actually apologizing? To her? Over this? Over making her feel bad about more evidence that she didn't actually know Barnes? Why did he keep doing that? It made no sense. It was jarring. If anything, she should be apologizing to him for the reminder that she had hurt his friend. But words stuck in her throat, so she forced the feeling aside, though she wasn't quite able to help the way she knew her face had already closed off. Force of habit. She had to say something, though, so she let out the first thing that came to her lips, surprising even herself with what came out. It was so…honest.

"That I can imagine," she said, her voice nearly as soft as his had been. "It was hard, sometimes, looking at her and seeing him…a reminder of him, always when I least expected it." A faint frown rose to his face, the expression one of mingled sympathy and lingering resentment. Resentment that was not aimed at her. That couldn't be right. Nadine's breath caught at the realization. She couldn't have read that right. If she had, it was even more startling and unsettling than the apology. How could he not still resent her? What she'd done? Malicious or not, it was unforgivable. At the very least, she'd thought that was something he had agreed with her on. Was it possible that he…didn't? Natasha insisted she hadn't been wholly in the wrong back then, not that Nadine believed her. But could Steve really, genuinely think the same? Nadine couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea. But she also knew her long ingrained instincts weren't wrong.

But he didn't say anything else. Not for a few moments, at least. Then he inhaled deeply, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion.

"She's a good kid, Ryker." He smiled then, glancing to her for a moment before looking back to Nina. "She helped me out in Sokovia, you know." Nadine couldn't help it, turning a questioning look to the Captain. His smile deepened, and he glanced to her again out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I was pinned down by a couple sentries and she helped me out of a tight spot. She's got a mean swing with a length of rebar. And then," he hesitated, looking to her almost warily before the fond grin was back, "next thing I know, she's got a sentry on her six that had been going after civilians and she directed it right into my shield." Nadine could barely keep her stunned reaction to herself, staring at Steve, trying to wrap her head around what she was hearing. About the proud, even affectionate way he'd just filled in a few curious, nearly forgotten blanks for Nadine about that day. Before she could help it, pride was swelling in her chest, a smile tugging at her lips as she glanced to Nina herself.

She looked back to Steve, surveying him, the way he was looking at Nina, the soft smile on his face and the warmth in his eyes. Her breath hitched as realization struck her; he'd grown fond of Nina already for Nina, not just because of Barnes. He was quickly coming to care for Nina in the same, instinctual way Natasha was. Really, he already had. Just like Natasha he had come to see Nina as family in every way that mattered. And he'd barely even spoken to her! Noticing her scrutiny, Steve levelly met her eye, his grin fading ever so slightly as contemplation took over.

"She might not have the backgrounds the rest of us do, she might not be trained for this life but…she didn't hesitate to help where she could," he said. "She's smart, Ryker. And she's strong; she'll get through this.

"You both will."

Nadine started at his assertion, unable to even try keeping it to herself this time, unsure she'd heard what she had. Looking up to him, his sincere look was confirmation enough; the comment had been another attempt at a peace offering…of a sort. It wasn't quite the same as the apology she hadn't let him offer back on the Helicarrier or on any occasion he'd tried since. It was something different. Rather, it was an offer to try and look past what had happened on the Quinjet instead. She fought not to narrow her eyes warily at him as she studied him. It still seemed like it should feel too good to be true, like it was more than she deserved…but it also didn't. Did she dare accept it? A quivering feeling deep in her gut urged her too and, despite her head's certainty that there had to be an ulterior motive even if she couldn't see it, she wanted to take it. She was growing tired of being so suspicious all the time, especially of people she knew rationally were on her side. Of people she knew her sister trusted.

How better to start breaking herself of that habit than by accepting what Steve offered? After all, Natasha did trust him with her life. And he obviously cared about Nina. Shouldn't that mean Nadine could at least try?

"I know she will," she finally responded softly, unable to keep her pride and love for her daughter from her voice as she looked back to Nina and the Twins. "And I hope we both will." They lapsed into a tense silence again, at least, until Nadine couldn't hold her suspicions in any longer.

"You've been talking to Natasha about me, haven't you," she finally asked. Once, it would have been an accusation, outrage and hurt flooding through her that her sister would share her secrets like that. But she only felt an odd sense of relief when she'd seen the contrite confirmation on his face. She couldn't quite understand—or believe—why she didn't resent the idea that Natasha had gone behind her back to tell Steve more about her past. Maybe because he already knew the worst…what harm could it do to tell him the rest?

Unnecessarily he nodded; he didn't need to say anything else. The minute change in his expression as she'd asked had been enough. And she found she had a good idea what her sister had likely shared, especially considering all that Natasha had told her about Steve and Barnes. It only seemed fair, she supposed, that Natasha had told him more about her given all that she'd shared with Nadine about him.

He seemed to realize as much too. Again silence fell between them until he spoke again, though it was far more comfortable than it had been before. But what he said next threw her completely off guard.

"Are you going to stay?" Nadine's gaze snapped to his in shock, her features blatantly astonished. Until that moment, she hadn't even allowed herself to truly consider the possibility. Oh, she'd thought about it, but she hadn't felt that it was a real option. It was why she'd spent every moment not watching Nina starting to make plans about what to do next and where to go. She hadn't thought anyone would actually want her to stay besides Natasha. He merely considered her reaction, neither dropping her gaze nor giving her any indication of his stance on the idea. It made her feel somewhat uneasy…but also unaccountably optimistic; did it mean he…wouldn't object if she were to stay? She couldn't figure it out. She was too stunned.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, too unsettled to deflect. "I'm the kind of person who works better alone, Rogers." What she didn't admit was that she didn't want to be alone anymore. It was beside the point. "Working with other people isn't exactly part of my M.O.." His features turned thoughtful, his attention solely on her. He didn't contradict her. But neither did he agree. She didn't know how to react. But the weight of his considering gaze soon had her sighing, knowing that he was waiting for her to elaborate despite not saying a word. She looked back to Nina where she sat on Pietro's bed with the Twins, the three of them watching television. The three of them smiling at whatever show was playing. But she didn't quite see them as she answered.

"Someone like me?" she murmured, her tone once again carefully composed. "You spoke to Natasha, so you know; I don't belong anywhere. And I've known it since I was a child. I was trained, conditioned to work better alone. I'm not cut out to be a team player. I accepted it a long time ago."

"Have you?" She glanced up to the Captain at the question. His ocean-hued gaze was unreadable, though his brow was creased faintly in consideration. She suddenly felt unaccountably vulnerable under that gaze, and had to look away, instinctively ensuring her mask was still in place.

"I never really had much of a choice in that, I'm afraid," she said. He inhaled deeply, his features still contemplative as his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"I don't think any of us did," he agreed. She forcibly ignored the tremor of emotion that his words sparked as she looked up at him. It was a small, tentative feeling like, in that moment, she'd actually found someone other than her sister who understood. But then she mentally shook the fanciful notion aside.

"At least you have your Team," she said softly, her smile unwittingly sad. "You're not that alone." He smiled back just as sedately, a shadow seeming to pass over his features.

"Far more alone than you might think, Ryker." Her stomach clenched then, her eyes beginning to prickle traitorously at the blunt understanding in his voice. It was almost a reprimand. He stepped back then, pausing only long enough to glance back at her a final time, his expression earnest yet nearly weary.

"And here? Neither of us is alone in that."

With that, he left her alone with her thoughts.


	63. Chapter 62

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Spring 2015**

He still couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

Nina had saved him.

She had  _saved_  him. If it weren't for her, he would've died that day in Sokovia.

That day, when he'd seen her and Hawkeye and that boy in the path of the Quinjet? He hadn't thought, he'd just reacted. He'd been run nearly off his feet, his body aching from the strain of racing through the streets of Novi Grad, from fighting against Ultron's sentries. His lungs had been burning, his muscles either feeling nearly numb or cramping with intense jolts of pain. By the time he'd seen the Quinjet barrelling toward them, he'd been utterly exhausted. He'd barely been able to reach anything close to a superhuman speed, and nothing close to his highest speed.

But he'd pushed himself to run as fast as he could, and he'd reached Nina in time. He'd pulled her away—barely a dozen feet away, but still far enough that she had been out of the line of fire. Then he'd gone back for the archer and the kid. Part of him still wasn't quite sure why, but he'd known he had to. They wouldn't have had a chance. But he might have. He had been able to give them that; maybe push them out of the way, or topple them back into the stairwell…

…shield them with his own body…

…he still wasn't quite sure what he'd been thinking…

Really, if he was being truly honest with himself, he hadn't thought, he'd just acted.

If he hadn't been so tired. So slow. If he hadn't been, it wouldn't have mattered if he'd been thinking straight or not. But as his exhaustion had set in, he'd gotten slower, and fighting that day had taken too much out of him.

He had been tired and he had been slower. Almost fatally so.

Wanda had been right. Bullets could catch him when he wasn't going fast.

And even worse, it hadn't only been his body that his exhaustion had slowed.

He hadn't been exaggerating to his twin; just as he could move physically faster than anyone, his thoughts could move just as fast, particularly when he was going at speed. It was only logical, really. He wouldn't be able to process where he was going or what he was doing while at speed, otherwise.

Well, his mind had been going just as slowly as the rest of him, and as he'd been racing toward the archer, before he'd placed himself between Hawkeye and the Quinjet, he hadn't even been able to think about anything but getting to them. To shield them.

He hadn't even considered simply pushing them out of the way or pulling them back into the stairwell behind them.

In that split-second as he had turned to go back, he'd lept after the first option that popped into his head and he had committed to it. To use what speed he could still muster, and shield them as best he could.

Deflecting the bullets away with his own body, if need be.

He'd decided that almost the instant he'd torn himself from Nina's side to go back. And even though he'd known the move would likely kill him, he'd had to try.

He couldn't watch the Avenger or the boy die. Not when he could try to help them.

After all, what good were powers if you didn't step up with them?

And a quiet sort of resignation had come over him then as he'd raced toward the archer where he'd been curled around the boy. An acceptance that he was out of time. That his speed wasn't going to be enough to get him out of trouble this time. That the only option left was to use his own flesh to catch the bullets and redirect them with a final burst of his speed. And as his remaining strength had faltered as he reached Hawkeye, knowing his time was up, he'd glanced back to Nina…

Just as she had crashed into him.

But before his heart had even leapt to his throat in panic, before he could even take a step to push her out of the way, as his eyes had snapped to the Quinjet, the bullets were upon them.

He hadn't even had time to try and shield her from the deadly spray. And he'd felt the first bullet rip through his body.

It was then that it happened.

He still couldn't quite be sure exactly what had happened, but it did. As Nina's fingers had clutched at his shirt, a soundless gasp had escaped her lips and the world had gone quiet. As she'd staggered against him, the air had lost its damp chill and grown thick and hazy.

It had been as though everything had frozen.

And he had watched as the bullets had hit the hazy barrier between them and him and Nina, their momentum dying the way he'd seen when bullets were fired into water before slowing to a stop, suspended in whatever it was Nina had created.

But then her strength had faltered. And the barrier had wavered.

And he'd felt the last couple bullets slam into him.

And he'd seen with sickening clarity as one had slashed its way past her, tearing through the jacket he'd given her, leaving a bloody gash along her ribs in its wake. He could barely breathe even now just thinking on it, her pale features seared into his memory as her eyes had widened with shock.

He remembered very little after that. Just falling.

That and the sound of the bullets she had stopped falling to the ground with an almost musical clinking sound.

Then he had woken up in the Infirmary on the Helicarrier, his torso aching and burning like white-hot spears had run him clean through as a house had fallen on his chest, Wanda pressed against his side and Nina in the cot next to his.

Never had he felt more relieved.

They were both okay. His sister and his…

What was she to him? He hadn't thought about it then, only thinking on how relieved he was that she was alive, his own aches and pain seeming to fade at the realization.

Of course, they'd come back with a vengeance when he'd tried to move, to reach her side. Just to be sure that she was  _really_  okay, of course. Boy, had Wanda let him have it for that. And he'd let her. He'd known just from looking into her nearly wild eyes that there was far more behind her scolding than just admonishment against aggravating his injuries.

"I felt you  _die_ , Pietro." She'd thought he'd been killed. His very soul seemed to ache from that whispered confession. Once they'd finally been left alone, once they'd been deposited in a private room in the Avengers' new facility, Wanda had told him everything he'd missed from that day and the almost two that had followed.

Including how Wanda had been sure she'd felt him die. It seemed that, whatever they were, Nina's powers had not only slowed and stopped the bullets, but it had also blocked Wanda from sensing those protected within the hazy bubble. Including him. It had all happened so fast that she had sensed his panic and pain from that first bullet a split-second before Nina's shield-like Enhancement had snapped the instinctive link she'd had with him via her own powers. And she hadn't been able to sense him anymore.

And in her own panic and pain and terror, Wanda's mind had jumped to a single, debilitating conclusion; he'd been killed.

Of course, he hadn't. And it still baffled him too, if he was being honest. Despite seeing it happen with his own eyes, he could still barely believe that Ultron's bullets hadn't ripped him to shreds.

And he had Nina to thank for that. Not that he'd ever be able to do what he felt justice were he to try and say it aloud.

Which was why, when she'd appeared in the door of his room a couple days later, her eyes anguished and desperate, he hadn't hesitated to pull her against him to offer what comfort and solace he could. No matter the physical pain the move had put him through. The emotional pain of seeing her so distraught had been far more potent. It was also why he'd waited with impatient patience for her to open up about what her mother had told her.

Not that he was exactly 'happy' when she'd finally opened up to him and Wanda.

That Pietro hadn't been happy with Nadine when Nina had told them what she'd been told had been abundantly clear and he felt no remorse on that account. Though, perhaps not for the reasons most would believe. Save Wanda. Wanda knew.

He hadn't been upset about Nadine keeping the kinds of secrets she'd had from Nina. Surprisingly enough, he'd understood that; it mirrored the way he and Wanda had kept the fact that most of those exposed to the Sceptre's energy had died from Nina. No, he'd been upset that she'd dumped it all on her at once. Nina was so strong, but Pietro knew she was already dealing with enough to break a normal person a dozen times over.

To add everything Nadine had thrust on her shoulders? It was enough to make him vibrate with rage. She was still healing! The look on her face when she had appeared in the door of his room that day? His heart still constricted with anguish at the mere thought of how devastated she'd looked...and at how hard she'd been trying to keep herself together.

But at the same time he could understand why the blonde assassin had done it. To learn that her mother had kept so much from her? He may not have known her long in the grand scheme of things, but Pietro was sure he knew Nina well enough that keeping it from her would've been worse than simply telling her.

Or maybe he was just projecting; he knew he'd rather know. And given the way Nina had spoken about her mom back in Sokovia when they'd been hiding out? Keeping it from her any longer than she already had would've destroyed what trust in her mom Nina had left, which was still far more than Pietro might have expected, even having glimpsed how compassionate Nina could be. Besides, now that he'd had some time to think it all over? Pietro could grudgingly admit Nadine really had owed Nina the truth.

It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

Just like he knew his sister didn't like it. But Wanda understood as well. More so than he likely did, given her inadvertent insight—literally—into Mm. Ryker's thoughts. It meant they both watched Nina leave their company with barely restrained worry when she slipped from the room for some time alone with her thoughts. It had only been a couple days since she had finally opened up to them about everything her mom had said.

Pietro was mere days away from being released, according to the Korean doctor who had been overseeing his treatment, and he was anxious to be allowed out of bed. His grumbling over that fact had brought the first smile he'd seen in days to Nina's face, though, so he wasn't too, too bitter about it. Of course, he still wished he were free to roam about the way his sister and now Nina were able. Nina had been free for almost a week herself, her own bullet wound having healed quickly and her sheer exhaustion from what had happened on Novi Grad remedied with a great deal of bed rest. According to the doctor, she was almost as good as new.

That didn't stop him from watching almost anxiously as she disappeared from sight, though. She might be back on her feet physically, but he suspected she was a long way off from being totally okay emotionally.

"Be careful, Pietro." Pietro twisted around at his sister's voice. Wanda's blue-green eyes were fixed thoughtfully on him from where she sat cross-legged next to his knees. An odd flutter in his stomach appeared at her words. He suspected he knew what she meant, but he pushed the thought aside. Did he really want to get into that now? The flutter intensified. Strangely enough, it made him feel a little like he was about to be sick…but in a pleasant sort of way. And if that thought wasn't enough to make him think he might just have lost his mind…

"I'm always careful." She hadn't needed to say anything, the stricken look on her face and the scarlet flash of irritation in her eyes had said more than enough. He flinched before he could stop himself. "About things like this, I mean," he amended. She wasn't entirely convinced, but she let it go, some of the tension seeping from her frame as she shuffled back to lean against the headboard next to him.

"Are you?" She finally asked quietly. "Pietro, you've never done 'serious' before." He frowned, twisting to look at her.

"I'm always serious." She scoffed, amusement lighting in her eyes. He smirked, pleased that the quip had done its work.

"You're deflecting," she admonished absently. "You've never been like this. Not with girls," she pressed on, ignoring his comment.

"What do you mean?" He knew exactly what she meant. He was not the kind of guy who had serious feelings for girls. He'd spent far too long on his own, only able to rely on Wanda to feel comfortable letting someone else in. But Nina?

Nina was different than other girls he'd known. She was sweet and compassionate and kind and selfless. She'd talked to a little boy she didn't know in Novi Grad and helped Pietro pass out his 'shopping' despite being nearly delirious from fever and barely able to keep her feet. She'd acted without hesitation to try and help that same little boy when he'd been overlooked by everyone else during the evacuation.

She'd run into a hail of bullets to try and help him.

She'd been more concerned about Pietro than her own health when she'd finally woken up. Heck, she'd spent most of the last week listening to him and Wanda—though, mostly him, really—unburden themselves despite having troubles enough of her own. She genuinely cared, even through her own heartache. More than that, she seemed to genuinely understand, and when she didn't she wouldn't pretend she did. She didn't pretend around them about anything. She trusted them when she arguably had no reason to do so, and that alone was precious. Honestly? She was one of the most genuine and kindhearted people he'd ever met. But she was also smart and strong and determined, stubborn really, and not content to let others fight for her. She stood up when she thought it was right, even if she had no real interest in fighting. Even when she was afraid.

It also didn't hurt that she was pretty too.

Oh boy…

He really did like her.

He hadn't even realized that he'd started letting her in past the walls that only Wanda was allowed through. Wanda watched him earnestly, nibbling on her lip for a moment before putting her thoughts into words.

"So…protective. So concerned. You really care about her, don't you." It wasn't a question. Pietro nearly bristled.

"Of course I do." Wanda sighed, reaching out to grab his hand.

"You don't know what I mean, do you." He was pretty sure he did, but he also really didn't want to admit it. He wasn't sure he was ready to admit it to himself, yet. It had always just been him and Wanda…but adding in Nina just felt so…so natural.

Not that his uncertainty stopped him from contradicting.

"Of course I do. I just don't get why it's a big deal." Wanda stared at him, a faintly wondering look appearing on her face.

"You  _really_  like her." Pietro swallowed convulsively. Feigning ignorance wouldn't work anymore, it seemed. Not that he entirely wanted to deny it. Not to Wanda. Because he did. It had been a realization hovering just on the edge of his consciousness since Nina had crashed into him that day in Novi Grad, when he'd been sure they were both about to die.

When he'd realized he wanted do anything to keep that from happening.

Even if it cost him his own life.

He liked Nina. Really  _liked_. As in, he was pretty sure he was beginning to fall in love with the young blonde. It was an epiphany he wasn't quite ready for, but that he was surprisingly okay with having. Even if he wasn't entirely ready for his overly perceptive sister to realize it yet. Wanda simply stared at him in wonder, comprehension breaking over her features. He fought not to squirm under the attention. Wanda didn't seem to notice. But then worry set in, and her brow furrowed slightly with it.

"And if her mom leaves? Even after everything, Nina will go with her, Pietro."

"Then I'll follow." The words were out of his mouth before he'd even had a chance to think them. It startled him almost as much as it startled Wanda. He looked to her, panic vibrating in his throat. Would he really do that? Would he leave Wanda for…no, part of him reassured. He'd want her to come with. He wouldn't hesitate to follow Nina if it came to that, but he'd want his twin to come too. As much as he couldn't bear the idea of being parted from Nina anymore, he didn't know if he could stand being separated from Wanda either. But still. A sad sort of smile tugged at Wanda's lips and her fingers squeezed tightly around his.

"It's okay, Pietro." He started again, his eyes boring into his sister. Wanda smiled, though the sadness of a moment before had faded into a rather pleased little expression. He huffed, knowing what it meant; she was basking in being right. He hated when she did that. It always made him feel like he'd been wrong about something. Even when he wasn't. But then the uncertainty was back.

He reached up, his arm curling around his twin and tangling in her long hair. Once his hair had been the same as hers; a dark, rich, wavy brown. As children, before puberty had made their differences plainly visible, it had been nearly impossible to tell them apart. Now, on top of everything else, the ends of his hair had been silvered by his Enhancement. It was one more difference between them.

"You like her too?" Huh. He didn't expect to sound quite so vulnerable at the question. Wanda grinned almost mischievously before nodding.

"But that's not to say I won't go after her if she hurts you," she said, her eyes suddenly glinting. He nearly gaped at her.

"Hey!" Wanda scoffed at his outburst, the sound very nearly successful at masking the laugh she was trying to hide.

"What did you expect me to say," she asked with mock indignation. "You've never liked any of the boys I liked. And even the ones you were almost alright with, you would bring out this overprotective routine and scare them away. Of course I'm going to do the same to you." His nose wrinkled. Not that he couldn't see the fear hiding behind her teasing; she was afraid his newfound feelings for Nina would lead to him abandoning her. It would never happen, of course, but after what had nearly happened in Nova Grad? He couldn't blame her for the fear. She had very nearly lost him, after all. In a very permanent way.

But, she was pretending she didn't feel that way, so he would follow her lead. She chuckled at his expression, dropping a quick peck on his cheek. He glanced down to her with indignation of his own.

"I can't help it. You're my little sister—"

"—by twelve minutes—" she cut in with exasperation. He fought back a grin but otherwise ignored the interruption.

"—I can't help but feel a little protective." Wanda drew back with an outraged little noise, her arms crossing over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Protective?! But I can't want to protect you when it comes to girls?" she challenged. Pietro faltered.

"I—that's—that's different!" Wanda huffed, though there was no hiding the amused sparkle in her eyes at his pathetic retort. It felt good, to bicker like this again. It felt normal. A tension that Pietro hadn't entirely realized had gripped him began to ease at their semi-serious argument. Wanda's nose wrinkled much as his had, only for her it was in exasperation.

"Hypocrite," she accused. Pietro grinned.

Yes. Things were beginning to return to normal.

Even if normal was going to look a little different from now on. But Pietro found he didn't mind. Not when he still had his twin by his side to face whatever came.

Together, they could face anything, after all.

Only for him to silently amend that thought as she lobbed a pillow into his face.

Except maybe where relationships were concerned.

Snatching the pillow from her, he whumped her back.


	64. Chapter 63

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Spring 2015**

"Well?" Pietro and Wanda looked up as Nina nearly skipped into Pietro's room. "What did they say? Are you free?" They didn't even need to answer. Nina could see the answer clear enough on both their faces; relief on Wanda's and an eagerness to be moving on Pietro's.

Not to mention that, instead of wearing plain, bland hospital-garb, Pietro was clad in normal clothes again. Or at least, normal for him. There was something rather comforting seeing him shrugging on a light runner's jacket over the athletic shirt and pants that she'd come to see as characteristic on him. Pietro grinned, spreading his hands wide in a showcasing pose before lifting the hem of his shirt. Nina blinked, swallowing back the urge to stare at his toned torso instead looking at the neatly healed wounds he was gesturing to. Though, once she turned her attention to them, it was hard not to stare at those too. Where there had originally been several bullet-wounds clear through his body, now the only evidence left of the devastating injuries were a few pale patches spread across his skin, the artificial flesh only barely tugging at his natural skin as scar tissue would've.

"Good as new," he declared smugly, looking between Nina and his twin, "you can barely even tell I was shot, no?" Next to him, Wanda scoffed, reaching over to tug his shirt free and yank it back down again. Nina snickered at the exasperated move, only barely able to keep from bursting into laughter at Pietro's surprised 'what' and Wanda's answering mutter of 'show-off.'

"So that's a yes to being free?" Nina teased. Pietro turned back to her, a grin once again on his face as, in a blink, he was at her side, an arm draping over her shoulder.

"Of course," he answered, barely sparing a glance at the indignant sound Wanda made.

"Don't do that," she scolded, marching up to her twin to lay a light smack on his chest, "you know the doctor said at least another week—" But Pietro waved her off.

"I'm fine," he insisted, "and it was barely even three feet; I wasn't even going that fast. Besides, what do they know about our Enhancements anyway? Maybe not using it is worse than using it." Wanda was unimpressed and unconvinced, fixing Pietro with an admonishing look as her arms crossed over her chest. Nina just felt uncomfortable.

On the one hand, she sort of knew how he felt; there had been times over the past week where she'd felt like the warm, hazy feeling deep in her chest had been on the verge of bursting free. So far she'd been able to keep that from happening, forcing herself to keep perfectly still, forcing herself to focus on her breathing until the feeling eventually faded. But she knew that wasn't going to cut it for long. The sensation was getting stronger. Her powers were getting stronger. Even just thinking about it had the feeling slowly spreading through her chest from its resting place beneath her sternum.

"Nina?" Her attention snapped back to the Twins, noticing they were both looking at her in concern. Wanda stepped forward, brushing her fingers against her arm as she searched Nina's face. "Are you okay?" Nina swallowed before nodding.

"I'm fine." Wanda cocked her head slightly, a faint line of concentration forming between her brows.

"Are you? You got so serious all of a sudden." A weak laugh escaped Nina and she waved it off.

"It's nothing," she glanced between the Twins, giving them each a small smile before a frown of her own appeared as a thought struck her. "Wait, you couldn't—" A nearly worried but sheepish expression flitted across Wanda's face. Nina's lips parted in surprise. "You couldn't read me? With your powers?" Wanda shrugged uncertainly.

"No, not always. Not like I could before…" Before her powers manifested, Nina supplied for herself at the pointed way Wanda trailed off. Nina swallowed thickly. Wanda reached out again, this time giving Nina's arm a gentle squeeze.

"I think…I think it's your…" Well, that went without saying. Nina leaned against Pietro as his loose hold across her shoulders tightened minutely. So that was something else she could do…

Pietro chose that moment to clear his throat. "I'm hungry," he declared, a faint tension in his voice the only indication that he was well aware of the unease that suddenly hung thick in the room. Wanda shot him a look that was equally admonishing and grateful. Nina could barely manage a small smile at his chipper change of subject. "Some real food would be nice, not that what they had here was all that bad," he continued with a roguish grin. Shaking her head despite the fond smile growing on her face, Wanda grabbed his arm and bodily turned her brother to push him forward out of the infirmary.

An hour and a delicious set of sandwiches later, and the three of them were occupying one of the couch sets in the Common Area set aside for the Avengers.

Nina had become quite fond of the area over the last several days. As much as she loved the Twins, there had still been moments when she'd needed space. Some time to herself. She wasn't used to always being around people, after all. It was on one of her missions to find a spot to hunker down with her own thoughts that she'd been guided to the common area set aside for the Avengers specifically. It was something else she had her new Aunt to thank for. Natasha had gone on to explain that the whole wing that they were in was restricted solely to the Avengers as well as the Twins, Nina and her mom.

For family, Natasha had insisted with a smile and firm look in her eye.

Then, with a knowing grin, Nat had resumed her seat in front of a massive stack of files at the table nearest to the room's kitchenette and left Nina to her own devices. Something Nina had appreciated. Not just that Natasha hadn't insisted on trying to talk or in looking at her like she was about to break down or something, but also that she had stayed even if she had given Nina space. It had seemed a contradictory feeling at first, but even when Nina had wondered why Natasha couldn't have left altogether, a part of her had begun trembling in panic at being left totally alone in the empty space.

It hadn't been much longer before she realized that having Natasha nearby made the space feel  _safe_. And after the last few weeks she'd had? Nina very much needed that feeling.

So much so that, when she'd returned the next day for a few more minutes alone with her thoughts, she'd actually been relieved to see Natasha puttering away in the kitchenette making some grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. Relieved enough that she'd found herself greeting the female Avenger with a tight hug. One that Natasha had returned without hesitation or question.

She had then proceeded to feed her grilled cheese sandwiches and shooed her off to the peaceful corner where Nina had curled up the day before.

"It's your spot now," her new Aunt had said with a wry grin before nodding toward the orange and tan set of couches and chairs on the other side of the common area, "so long as you're okay with me claiming that middle one over there." Unable to help her grin, Nina had nodded, something tight in her chest beginning to ease ever so slightly. Halfway to her chair of choice, Natasha had paused then, looking back to Nina with a smirk. "Oh, and you're making the food tomorrow."

So Nina had made a fairly decent fettuccini for Natasha the next day.

And, having found her safe space, Nina had made good use of it in the days since. Natasha hadn't been around for only one of those days, something that Nina had been a little disappointed about. But she hadn't been entirely alone, either. Captain Rogers had occupied Natasha's chair that day, his ankle resting on his opposite knee as he'd focused on the tablet in his hands. He'd only spared her a small smile in greeting, but it had been enough to put Nina at ease.

Enough so that she'd pointed out he was in Nat's chair. He'd laughed at that.

"Well, then I suppose she'll have to fight me for it," he'd teased lightly back. Natasha had laughed about that in turn when Nina had told her about it the next day.

"He can try," the redhead had smirked. They'd spent the rest of the afternoon with Natasha telling Nina all about how she'd met Steve and subsequent Battle of New York.

The next day, neither had said a word, Natasha merely shooting Nina a commiserating grin when she curled up onto the orange couch next to her Aunt rather than on the crimson one she'd claimed. It had been a bad day, with Nina's thoughts berating her extra hard over her inability to reconcile some of the things she'd learned about her own past. She'd woken up several hours later with her head on Natasha's shoulder, her Aunt's arm curled around her shoulders even as she focused on the tablet in her other hand.

Though Natasha hadn't so much as started to ask if she was okay—it had no doubt been obvious that she wasn't, considering how awful Nina had felt walking into the common area—Nina had felt much better by the time she'd pulled herself to her feet to rejoin the Twins in the infirmary for dinner.

And naturally she had returned the next day.

It had easily become a bit of a sanctuary to Nina.

For all that the area was huge and open, the fact that it was still effectively segmented into sections made the corner where the crimson couch set they occupied quite cosy. The huge squashy pillows certainly helped there. Nina was nearly burrowed between two of them in the corner, while the Twins sat to her right, Pietro snug in the middle with Wanda's legs stretched out across both his lap and Nina's as she laid her head on her brother's shoulder. And it was Wanda who finally broke the easy silence between them.

"So, you're speaking to your mom again?" Nina fidgeted next to Pietro at the question, earning an exasperated look when she jostled Wanda's leg where it lay over hers. But she didn't grimace at mention of her mom the way she might have a couple days before. She was, sort of. It wasn't easy. Every time she was alone with Nadine, Nina felt like everything she felt, everything she wanted to say or ask or accuse felt like it was crowding forward in her brain, catching in her throat as it tried to escape. So she'd kept her mouth shut.

But it was getting a little better. The longer she had to mull over everything she'd learned, the easier it was getting to ignore the surge of hurt and anger her mom's initial confessions had left her fighting. In thinking it all over, she was admittedly starting to come to terms with it all. Not completely, of course—she wasn't sure actually  _accepting_  any of it would actually happen for a long time—but enough that she could put it aside. Enough so that she wasn't always fighting against the urge to lash out at Nadine. She knew, rationally, that her mom didn't deserve it, but that didn't always quash the urge as effectively as she'd like.

Feelings were irrational like that.

These last few days, though, another urge had been growing to rival the one fed by the pained, angry feelings stirred up by the things her mom had told her.

She missed her mom.

Or, more accurately, she missed being with her mom. Her mom was right there, but part of Nina wasn't quite ready to bridge that gap just yet. Too many things had changed. Her mom had changed… Sort of.

In some ways, she was exactly the same as she'd always been. Real smiles still came rarely, and usually only for Nina. But her mom smiled with others now, too. She smiled around her Aunt Nat—it still felt so strange to think of Black Widow as her Aunt, but it was slowly beginning to feel natural—and even around some of the other Avengers. The other day, Hawkeye had popped into the Compound to see how Nina and Pietro were doing and Nina had actually seen her mom smile, really smile, when the archer had draped an arm around her shoulder in a half-hug of greeting.

She'd even grinned, her pale eyes betraying her amusement, when Stark had managed to corner her and Natasha when he too had dropped into the Compound the week before. It had been on the other side of the glass from the room where Nina had been sitting with the Twins, but Nina had seen the exchange clearly enough. It left her curious about what the billionaire had been asking. Of course, a few minutes later, her mom's expression had gone cold and she'd turned on her heel after effectively cutting Stark down with whatever she'd said. Pietro had actually shivered beside her at the exchange, and at the end of the bed Wanda had been trying to hide a wary, even nervous look of her own.

"It's not the first time we've seen that look," Wanda had finally explained when Nina had pressed to find out why they had reacted that way. Nina had frozen, dread pooling in her stomach. Pietro had shrugged lightly, nearly succeeding in shooting her a reassuring look.

"Well, she did believe we had handed you over to Ultron," he'd explained softly, attempting at a carefree tone. It hadn't worked. But then he'd turned serious, his gaze turning haunted as it met his twin's. "And she wasn't wrong."

It had all poured out from there. And Nina's heart had nearly broken at the guilt that became clearer and clearer the longer Pietro had spoken. He'd admitted that he and Wanda had both felt guilty about what Strucker had done to her back in Novi Grad already, and she had already heard their reasons for throwing in with Ultron, but she could barely comprehend the pain in his voice as it spilled out just how horrible he felt over everything that had happened.

"We were blind, Nina," he'd murmured, his body nearly shaking it was so tense with guilt and horror over what their actions had helped unleash on their home, their city; Novi Grad was devastated, almost beyond hope of recovery. It was all over the news, and had been now for weeks. "We were stupid and naïve and…" He'd faltered, having trouble voicing what he wanted to say, hard as it was to get out. It had been obvious that he wasn't usually good at sharing his feelings. Each and every look he'd given Wanda, searching almost desperately for reassurance and encouragement had made that clear. Even the ones he'd turned to Nina for had been nearly pleading, as though desperate that she understand that they hadn't meant for anything bad to happen. They hadn't wanted what had happened. At all.

"We should have known better. But we just wanted—" Nina had squeezed his other hand then, looking up from where her head had been laying against his shoulder.

"You wanted justice," she'd offered when he hadn't continued. Pietro had merely sighed, looking dejectedly to Wanda.

"No." It was Wanda who had finally spoken, breaking her silence. Her voice had been hollow and laden with more guilt and remorse than Nina had been able to bear. The whole time her twin had spoken, Wanda hadn't said a word. She'd just clutched her brother's hand as though it had been the only thing keeping her on the bed, her face ashen and drawn. "We wanted revenge. And other people paid for our mistakes." She'd fallen silent then, her eyes shining and glazed and staring at nothing. But her tears didn't fall.

"Mistakes we should have paid for," Pietro had added grimly.

Wanda hadn't spoken again, only letting out a small, pained sound of agreement at her brother alluding that they hadn't paid a steep enough price for their mistakes.

They'd spoken very little on what had happened in Sokovia and with Ultron, but little by little, more had come out, and Nina had done her best to listen, the need to do for the Twins what they had done for her pressing as insistently against her ribcage as her newfound powers often did. And it had helped. At least, for Pietro, it had.

Wanda was another story.

Nina sighed at the question she still hadn't answered, very aware that both twins were watching her with poorly concealed confusion. They knew most of what Nadine had shared with Nina, Nina needing to let it out to someone, to ease the feeling that there was simply too much in her head to contain. Especially not when Pietro had begun to drop almost pathetically blatant hints that he and Wanda were more than happy to listen. Even going so far as to point out that he, at least, had nothing better to do. That had made her laugh, surprisingly enough, and his smug look at having inspired the reaction nearly made her smack him for being cheeky. But it had felt good to let it out, and Pietro had been as good as his word, both twins listening sympathetically has she poured her heart out.

Rather like Pietro had poured his own out when he'd opened up about their role in the Ultron Fiasco.

"Not yet," she finally admitted tightly. Pietro made a small sound that she couldn't quite decipher. Wanda, however, frowned in a way that bordered on pity.

"She misses you too, you know." Nina started, glancing to Wanda in confusion before what she said registered. She swallowed thickly.

"I thought you said you couldn't see my thoughts, anymore." Wanda shrugged.

"Only sometimes. Sometimes I can see them as easily as anyone else's." She fixed Nina with a knowing look then. "But it's not hard to guess what you were thinking." Nina did grimace then, hugging the pillow she was wrapped around tighter.

"I just can't…" an irritated sound was all that came out next. Even after having told them almost everything, from what her mom had said to stumbling through her feelings on everything from her kidnapping to learning her father had been just as Enhanced as her mom, she couldn't quite manage to get it out. She simply didn't  _know_  how she felt.

That's what was making it so hard.

She sighed. Wanda reached forward to clasp her hand, earning an indignant grunt from Pietro as she nearly elbowed him in the stomach in the process. Rolling her eyes at her twin's antics, Wanda leaned back after a moment, settling back against him. But she turned her shrewd blue-green eyes back to Nina.

"You should tell her," she finally said quietly. Nina couldn't help the way she tensed, a thread of panic needling and prickling at her. "You shouldn't just…bottle it up." At that Nina fixed Wanda with an intent look of her own. The moment she did, a dull flush began to creep across Wanda's cheeks.

"Neither should you." It was said so softly that Nina barely heard herself say it. But the Twins did hear her, their matching gazes flicking to her, one set cautious, the other stricken. Wanda trembled, her hands clenching tight as she tucked them beneath her elbows. But neither Pietro nor Nina missed the move. Pietro's expression grew worried as he tucked Wanda closer to his side, laying a light kiss against the crown of her head.

"It's okay," he murmured. Nina couldn't help but look away, the moment feeling far too private for her to even hear. But hear she did. "You don't have to say anything," he continued murmuring, "we understand, Wanda. I understand. I was there too." Nina looked back to Wanda with worry as a sharp, breathy sound shook free. It took Nina a second to recognize it as a stifled sob.

"But you don't." If Nina's response to Wanda's advice had been soft, Wanda's was all but inaudible. Had Nina not watched her say it, she wouldn't have known Wanda had spoken at all. She certainly wasn't sure she'd heard right. Wanda drew in a shuddering breath, her eyes fixed on her knees. "You don't understand. You can't." His face fixed with determination, Pietro fished out one of her hands, clasping it tight in his own.

"I can try," he assured her before glancing to Nina. "We can." Another shuddering almost-sob hiccupped from her. Before she could even contemplate the move, Nina was slipping from her spot on the couch to settle on Wanda's other side, wrapping her arms around her in much the same way that Wanda had embraced Nina when Nina had sought them out when her own world had finally finished fallen apart. That felt like forever ago, already.

"But it's all my fault," she whispered, shaking her head against her twin's side. Pietro's arms tightened. Nina laid her head against Wanda's shoulder. "Everything. Sokovia…all those people…Johannesburg and what I did to the Avengers…Ultron…" Her voice cracked and shattered. And Nina was fighting back a sob of her own, her vision beginning to blur at how broken and small Wanda sounded. Strong, sharp Wanda. Her arms tightened further around her friend. Wanda burrowed deeper into their embrace, clutching at her twin and Nina both.

"You wanted justice," Nina said, doing her best to keep her voice steady, desperate to try and help her friend, to sooth her, to help back her away from the panic and horror and guilt ravaging her conscience. "Ultron took advantage of that. You aren't to blame for what he did." Nina nearly jerked as Wanda's head began to shake violently, and other gasping sob tearing through her.

"But Ultron only existed because of me."

And the floodgates opened.

By the time Wanda fell silent, dropping into an exhausted doze even as the last words fell from her lips, Nina was nearly shaking in effort to keep the warm haze of her powers contained as they threatened to burst free. She could hardly bear her own horrified disbelief from the potency of Wanda's feelings of guilt. On Wanda's other side, Pietro's face had turned stony and pained, his eyes unnaturally bright as he clung to his sister.

Neither of them could even move, much less speak. So they said nothing.

They just held Wanda tighter. Neither of them knew what more they could do. So they both hoped that listening was enough. And for the time being, it seemed to be.

Only time would tell.

But Wanda had finally let it out, letting some of the weight she'd been carrying on her soul loose for them both to help her bear.

So while it didn't feel like much, it was a start.

And that was something.


	65. Chapter 64

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Spring 2015**

Whatever it was that had passed between them during their brief conversation, it had proven a critical step to clearing the air between Steve and Nadine. And after that odd, subtle exchange of understanding the other day, things had shifted again just as it had after she'd opened up about her past with Barnes back on the Helicarrier.

She was beginning to feel, well…not exactly comfortable around the Captain, but close. As soon as her secret had come out followed by the subsequent inevitable conversation, Nadine had felt compelled to revert back to wearing her instinctive unreadable, professional persona again, instinctively keeping her feelings and her reactions to herself. Especially around Rogers. But after that conversation as they'd both stood watching over Nina, she found her defences beginning to slip again as they had at the Barton homestead. And once she realized she was doing it, the more she realized that she was okay with it, that she actually enjoyed the feeling of not having to school every minute expression or carefully police her tone or her words.

In barely a week between when she'd first sought out the Avengers and the disastrous Seoul flight, she'd started to enjoy not having to maintain control of herself nearly every second. That not only had she not felt the need to, but that she'd begun to enjoy letting her guard down around the Avengers. She hadn't even entirely realized she'd been doing it at first, and once she had? Well, it was only after Seoul and Novi Grad that she realized just how liberating it had felt…and that she missed it.

Really, she was beginning to suspect that Nina's improving feelings—and even Rogers' shifting behaviour—were related in part to her own loosening hold over the projected reserve and impassivity she'd been hiding behind for most of her life.

Well, if that was what it took, Nadine wasn't about to object or complain. It felt good to do it, and not just because it was apparently having an effect on healing the damage her secrets had done.

That wasn't to say it wasn't difficult. It was not coming easily, and there were definitely times where it felt like it was far too difficult to override her long-ingrained instincts to hide away behind the masks the Red Room had forced her to develop. Those days people gave her a wide berth in the halls if she was out and about. But that didn't bother her. Part of her was still adamant on keeping herself closed off, after all. It was safe and it was familiar to hide herself away.

Opening herself up to others was very much not.

In that Natasha was an invaluable ally. Having gone through the process of retraining herself to open up around others, especially those she cared about, her patience and encouragement had thus far kept Nadine from regressing too much whenever her Red Room training tried to reassert itself. Not to mention how effective Natasha's periodic bouts of her self-proclaimed tough love had proven. Her sister certainly wasn't afraid to tell it like it was, that was for sure. More than once she'd pointed out when Nadine was reverting, not letting up until she'd dropped her mask and shared what she was really thinking. Just the week before, Natasha had let her have it when Nadine had effectively gone cold, as her sister had put it, at one of Stark's quips about needing to bring in a babysitter with 'all the kids running around,' shutting him down with a cool comment about her daughter being none of his concern and certainly not a child anymore.

"It was a joke, Nadine," Natasha had seethed, "and you know it. You know he knows what happened to her, right down to her fighting back. And after knowing she'd been kidnapped? After Sokovia? Hell, after the HYDRA fiasco with S.H.I.E.L.D.? After seeing this place? You  _know_  Stark wouldn't even consider bringing  _anyone_  in to work with Nina or the Twins without vetting them in every way known to man. He's almost as paranoid as I am, as  _you_  are!

"I know you don't trust easily," she'd said then, the irritation in her voice fading to an almost pleading resignation, "and I know you're not ready to trust them yet. But please, at least trust me. This is my Team. I trust them with my life, and I'd trust them with Nina's in a heartbeat. You have to know that means something."

Nadine had seethed right back, walking away from her sister without a word. But once her own temper had cooled, she hadn't been able to help but admit Natasha had been right. She might not trust the Team—yet a little part of her insisted—but she did trust Natasha. So she had promised to try, Natasha promptly pulling her into a tight, relieved hug when Nadine had apologized and said as much. And Nadine had clung to Natasha right back.

"One of these days you'll stop forgetting you're not alone, anymore," her little sister had admonished gently, her voice wavering.

It was a reminder Nadine had sorely needed, and would likely continue to need for a long time to come.

But it was hard. Nadine had no idea how her little sister had managed to break that part of her training on her own. Natasha had simply laughed at the observation.

"Years," had been her response, her eyes still sparkling with mirth despite the shadows behind them when she'd finally been able to speak again. "Years and years and a lot of trial and error. Not to mention a great deal of patience, understanding and a little of the same tough love from Clint and Laura and even Fury, so I wasn't exactly alone, either. And trust," she'd added sedately, her mirth fading into earnestness. "I had to learn to trust. And that was probably the hardest part of all."

Well, Nadine could understand that.

Regardless of how quickly she seemed to be working past her hang up on letting herself open up around others, she knew it was likely to take just as long for her as it had for Natasha. Especially when it came to the 'trust' angle.

It really didn't help that she'd spent so long pretending to be open; a necessity in maintaining a somewhat 'normal' life when she hadn't been working as the Ghost. Especially when it came to raising Nina. With each passing day, she was coming to realize just how much of herself she'd been hiding away even around her daughter. Seeing the genuine surprise on Nina's face when she bickered fondly with Natasha or taunted Stark or smiled with Thor and Rogers never failed to sting. It was disheartening to realize Nina had never seen her like that with anyone but her. All because she'd had to work so hard to keep her secrets and her secret life as the Ghost safely hidden away…all because she'd been so focused on keeping Nina safe from her world.

It also didn't help that she was beginning to grow restless, thus straining her patience with herself further. In the past, whenever that happened, she simply took on another contract. Now? Well, she had been serious when she'd told Fury she had every intention of closing up shop. While waiting for Nina to recover, in addition to planning her next moves, she'd begun shutting down her operation as the Ghost. She had no intention of ever taking another contract.

But without the distraction the hunt gave her? The thrill that came from running her target to ground? The outlet it provided?

It left her mind free to start dwelling on things she'd rather not think about. And just now? Given the all the memories she'd been forced to dredge up since she'd first been given the contract on her little sister?

It left her thinking a lot about her past.

But also on just what she wanted going forward; a series of thoughts Steve's pointed question had made all the more persistent.

It was something Natasha seemed to pick up on as she approached.

"So are you going to stick around?" Nadine glanced up to her sister. She was standing at the kitchenette in the Compound's common area, nursing a cup of coffee as her mind worked over and over through potential courses and thoughts and memories she hadn't allowed herself to contemplate in years. Shifting over, she made room for Natasha on the stretch of counter she was leaning against. As the redhead peered at the coffee in the carafe not far away—and, on deciding it was fresh enough, pouring herself a cup—Nadine shrugged, her fingers absently tracing the handle of her own mug.

"Talked to Rogers, did you?" Nadine said dryly. Natasha's lips twitched as she suppressed a sly grin. Nadine hesitated before actually answering, holding back a weary sigh. "I haven't decided yet. There are a lot of factors to consider." Taking a sip from her mug, Natasha leaned against the counter next to her, humming faintly in both acknowledgement of Nadine's response and satisfaction that the coffee was acceptable.

"Such as?" Nadine nearly rolled her eyes. Yet again, her sister was forgoing subtlety, it seemed. But Nadine was willing to play along. For the moment.

"First off, our home is in Vienna; Nina goes to school there and I have the Studio." Natasha glanced at Nadine, her expression enough in lieu of words: what home? They both knew perfectly well that Ultron had dumped almost all of Nadine's covers to Interpol among another couple dozen worldwide agencies.

What Natasha didn't know was that Nadine had already looked into the extent of the fallout; all her assets as 'Nadine Ryker' had already been seized or were under surveillance and she and Nina both had been flagged; her for arrest, Nina as a person of interest. There really was nothing for her and Nina to go back to, and trying would be pointless, if not outright dangerous. While that didn't exactly hurt Nadine's feeling if she was being honest, she wasn't quite so sure about Nina. She'd had friends—though admittedly not particularly close ones; Nina had never even invited any of them home—and a life in Vienna. But she'd also been mere weeks away from graduating high school and had been waiting to hear back on her university applications. Further, Nina had never seemed quite so…attached the way other teenagers often were to her life there. She had yet to even mention Vienna since coming to the Compound, really. But that wasn't to say the idea of never going back couldn't potentially hit her hard once it sunk in; she'd already experienced so much upheaval…lost so much. But at the same time… Nadine couldn't say Nina seemed all that eager to go back to their simple life in Vienna either.

After all, none of the schools Nina had applied to had even been in Austria, much less Vienna. Some were as far away as the States, if Nadine remembered correctly. She was pretty sure Nina had even applied to MIT and Caltech. So leaving Vienna she would likely be okay with…but university… Nadine bit back a groan at the reminder. That would be a great deal of work to manage now that their covers were shot. If Nina even still wanted to go off to school…

But if that was what Nina wanted? Nadine and her secrets had already disrupted her daughter's life enough. She would make it happen.

Still, she couldn't help but cede that Natasha had a point before moving on.

"My Workshop is there; all my equipment, my assets—"

"What, only one? No bolt holes?" Nadine spared her sister an aggravated look. Her green eyes were sparkling with amusement. Natasha was enjoying this far too much.

"Of course I have those too,  _lisichka_ —all over the Europe and even a couple here. I'm no amateur," she said with indignation. "But I only have one primary operations base. One that I've put a lot of time, effort and money into." Natasha shrugged, granting Nadine a reluctant point. "Plus, all my work toward finding  _him_  is there," she added soberly.

"So go collect it all and bring it here," Natasha countered with a purposefully light tone, complete with a correspondingly dismissive gesture as she raised her mug to her lips for another sip, "you'll need it anyway unless you want to start from scratch…though, that's not always a bad idea," she added with showy thoughtfulness, "you never know what you might pick up that you missed the first time around. Besides, it'll be a lot easier to just work from one location, and our assets are here; you'd have to keep bouncing back and forth if you choose to set up elsewhere." Nadine nearly grumbled. This was why she was having such trouble with this decision; Natasha was voicing every argument and counter-argument she herself was coming up with.

And Natasha knew it.

Because, at the end of the day, Nadine found that she didn't actually  _want_  to leave. Not anymore. Not when she could feel the potential to  _belong_  here.

It was an intoxicating, seductive feeling.

But she pushed it aside. There was one very good reason she could think of why it wasn't feasible no matter how much she might want it. And that wasn't even counting the argument she'd made to Steve; she knew Natasha wouldn't buy that one for a minute, no matter how true Nadine believed it was in her case. No, there was one other good reason.

"Then there's the question of whether or not your teammates would even be open to me sticking around," she pointed out with finality and a poorly hidden trace of reluctance. Natasha actually had the audacity to raise a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"And why wouldn't they? Steve wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't okay with it, and you know it. Besides, you're practically part of the Team already after the Ultron thing, ah—" she held up a silencing hand even as Nadine's mouth opened to object, "—it's true whether you like it or not. The only one against actually making it official and calling you an Avenger is you. Everyone else is just following your lead on that." Nadine bit back a scowl.

Natasha was right, after a fashion. But that didn't deter her argument to the contrary.

"Not only am I wanted by most international agencies at the moment, Natalia," she pointed out tersely, earning an eye-roll from her sister, "but I'm also retired," she added, her voice turning soft and nearly plaintive…and notably without conviction. Natasha bit back a fondly exasperated grin, hiding it behind her mug. They both knew it was a hollow statement; what they were wasn't something either of them could just turn off. She may not be taking contracts anymore, but Nadine would never stop being the Ghost.

"That doesn't mean you  _have_  to leave," Natasha said diplomatically instead. Nadine twisted to set her long empty mug on the counter, her arms folding across her chest as her gaze fell to the ground. Why was she so conflicted over this? It should be a simple decision. Did she  _want_  to stay? As contrary to everything she was as it seemed, the short answer was yes…it was the long answer she was getting caught up on. Her habits and experience said no. Her assessment of what would be safest for Nina said there were pros and cons aplenty either way.

"You should stay," Natasha said gently, bumping her shoulder lightly against Nadine. The blonde assassin sighed.

"Natasha…"

"Besides," Natasha added, her vibrant eyes glinting mischievously, "I think Nina would like to." Nadine glared at her little sister. Natasha grinned triumphantly, knowing full well that Nina was Nadine's weak spot. She groaned in frustration, part of her hating that the argument wasn't even worth having since she knew very well that Natasha would win now that Nina had been brought into it. The only reason she'd stayed as long as she had was Nina; first she'd needed to heal…second, as much as Nadine didn't want Nina to get caught up in this world and as much as Nadine wondered if Nina would ever feel that she belonged in it, she was just as reluctant to take her away from those she'd come to care about so soon.

Turning her gaze pointedly away from her rather smug little sister, Nadine caught sight of Nina and the Maximoff Twins sitting together, talking quietly across the Avenger's private common area within the Compound. She looked…well, not quite happy, not with what she was still struggling to process about her own life, but content. Comfortable. At ease. Loath as she might be to admit it considering their history, the Twins were good for Nina. They'd listened when she needed someone to listen, given her space when she needed the time alone and had been more than happy to provide distraction when Nina had needed to get out of her own head for a time. Even the task of making herself available to listen to the Twins—especially Wanda—when they'd begun to open up, needing to talk about what they'd been through had seemed to help her daughter on her own road to recovery. Helping herself heal by helping them, as it were. And since the Twins had already chosen to stick around…

It was then that the Maximoff girl glanced up to her, meeting Nadine's gaze with an unreadable look.

It was clear that Wanda Maximoff was still reeling, only just beginning to recover emotionally the way her brother was physically. Nadine could see that clear as day. It was like there was a shadow lingering over the girl. A morose, gnawing feeling of guilt and remorse and—perhaps hardest for the girl to reconcile—a feeling of relief. It left her feeling detached from the world around her. Like she was out of place. Thanks to everything she had done and experienced throughout the Ultron Fiasco—be it her hand in his creation, to becoming his ally, to believing her Twin had been killed by the robot for however short a time—there was a lot that she was going to have to learn to live with. And she was struggling. That was clearly visible in her veiled blue-green eyes. And no amount of reassurance from her twin could seem to ease it; Nadine imagined that small reality troubled her almost as much as everything else did.

Nadine knew the feeling. Though, in some ways, the shadows in her own past paled in comparison to what Wanda was facing.

And they both knew it. Which was why Nadine had decided to leave her be just as she was with Nina despite the slowly growing urge to try and help the girl who was helping her daughter. She knew that little of what she could say would actually help, and that Wanda wasn't ready to hear what little she could offer—the hard truth that the guilt never went away, and the realization that one just had to accept that, to keep it from taking over.

Nadine knew Wanda had some idea what shadows lay in her past. She could see it in the fearful yet nearly pitying way the girl sometimes looked at her. She'd seen the ghosts of the Red Room in Nadine and Natasha's heads. She'd seen some of the spectres that haunted Nadine's conscience. Nadine knew she had. Not that she seemed to have sought out the memories. Nadine rather doubted Wanda had actively dug through her thoughts and memories to see what she suspected the girl had seen. Judging by the stricken, even apologetic looks she'd caught from the girl and the guilt that surfaced in her eyes when Nadine suspected she'd picked up another glimpse of her mind, it was—for the most part—inadvertently done; her control weakened by stress and guilt and an aimless sense of purpose.

Well, no matter the history she had with the Twins— noble intentions or not, they had taken her daughter, after all, and that still bothered Nadine, while she had threatened them both in turn—she couldn't help but feel some measure of sympathy for the girl. No one that age should have to shoulder the burdens she now carried.

That Nadine certainly knew intimately.

But Nadine also knew that one of the best ways to start working past one's demons was to find a purpose and, through that purpose, find a measure of distraction and sometimes even closure. At the very least a way to put her demons to use. Helping Nina work through her troubles was helping to some extent, but Wanda would need something…more. Rather like how Nadine had used caring for Nina in those earlier years to do much the same thing; Nina had been her path to moving past—even healing from, to some small extent—everything she'd gone through in the Red Room. And when that hadn't been enough? Well, The Ghost had helped there.

It was why Nadine had found herself coming back to one particular thought, one particular bit of unfinished business that she'd forced herself to ignore for years. A bit of closure that was now potentially attainable now that Nadine was no longer trapped under HYDRA's thumb.

And she was finding that she wanted to jump after it with both hands.

She glanced to her sister, eying her thoughtfully and earning a raised brow of interest in return. Inhaling deeply, she turned her gaze back to her daughter and her companions, her gaze once again finding the Maximoff girl even as ideas and plans began formulating in her mind. She had finally settled on what she wanted to do. Both the Sokovian girl and Nadine's sister looked to Nadine curiously, neither quite sure what to make of the cool, thoughtful look coming over the blonde assassin's face.

"If I'm going to even think about staying," she finally said quietly, glancing to her sister, "there's something I have to do first." Intrigued, Natasha turned to set her own recently emptied mug on the counter before settling her full attention on her sister. An almost fervent light had taken up residence in Nadine's grey gaze. When she spoke, her voice was low and all business.

"Do you know if Madame B is still alive?" Natasha glanced critically at Nadine before answering, her own gaze quickly turning thoughtful.

"I think so." A slow, cruel grin began to curve Nadine's lips, one that Natasha was soon mirroring.

"Good." As Nadine pushed off from the counter, there was no mistaking that the Ghost had woken. It was clear in her eyes as she turned back to her sister.

"Want to go hunting?" The wicked gleam that appeared in Natasha's sharp eyes was answer enough.

"Gladly."


	66. Chapter 65

**Paris, France**

**Summer 2015**

"You know? Not sure I would've called France."

"Well, she is working with the Russian Embassy, here. I feel like it's little mystery what she's likely doing." Nadine nearly snorted at her sister's dry response.

Nadine took a sip of her latte as Natasha settled herself into her own seat across the small patio, just barely keeping herself from wincing at the taste. Boy, did she miss the lattes from the little shop just down from her and Nina's old apartment.

"So," she murmured under her breath, just loud enough for their earpieces to pick up, "she favours this place, does she?" Natasha nearly chuckled as she lowered her own waxed paper cup from her lips.

"For some reason," she confirmed, unable to keep the wry agreement from her equally low voice. Nadine could practically feel her little sister withholding a grin. "She's good at keeping from a strict routine, but this place seems to be the exception. At least twice a week, not quite like clockwork, but close enough." She caught sight of Nat shifting out of the corner of her eye. "There's probably more going on. My money's on a regular data drop of some kind; picking up or dropping off. Either that or meeting with her handler…or she is the handler." Nadine refrained from nodding, letting out a soft, assenting hum of agreement instead. They sat in silence for a time, Natasha pulling out a book to complete her inconspicuous look while Nadine tapped away on her tablet.

"I know you used the surveillance side on your hunts," Natasha murmured after a few moments, "but I imagine it's been a while since you've used the undercover bit of our training." Nadine was tempted to spare Natasha a condescending, yet brittle smile. Instead she merely glanced subtly at the redhead—not a redhead at the moment, though, but a brunette—just in time to catch a glimpse of a smirk teasing her little sister's lips as she took a sip of her own coffee.

"Not so long as you seem to think," she answered softly. Natasha's head tilted with curiosity, asking silently for an explanation. Nadine sighed. "Natasha, I'm undercover almost everyday of my life. The only time I am not is when I'm the Ghost."

"I'm not sure that's entirely true either, Nadya." Nadine's jaw clenched, but she kept silent, keeping her eyes fixed on her tablet screen as she forced her expression back into one of bored concentration. "At least not anymore."

What was she supposed to say to that?

It didn't seem Natasha was expecting an answer, though, and the two of them lapsed into silence again to wait.

Mercifully, they weren't waiting much longer—Nadine had just been about to feign leaving when their target appeared.

"There," Natasha intoned, catching sight of their target first. Nadine subtly angled her tablet screen to take advantage of the reflective surface.

It was undoubtedly Madame B.

The years had been kind to the former Red Room supervisor. She looked good, still slender and fit for a woman in her sixties, her impeccably tailored outfit showing it off to advantage. But then, Nadine couldn't say it was surprising. General physical fitness aside, one aspect of their training had been a certain consciousness of and care for physical appearance; after all, whether people liked to admit it or not, they did a lot of thinking and subsequent judging with their eyes…or other anatomy besides their brains. The Red Room instilled habits that were hard to break. There was little doubt that Madame B had once been a recruit herself. Even before one of Nat's old contacts had passed on their old supervisor's file and Nadine had dug up some of the redacted bits from the KGB's secure servers, they both had suspected as much. And they hadn't been wrong. Not by a long shot.

It had taken weeks of work and research, both Natasha and Nadine leaning on old contacts and digging into legitimate and underworld sources and databases to piece together what had happened to Madame B after Natasha had left the Red Room. But finally they had managed to track her down to Paris, France. From there it had simply been a matter of observing and planning. A lot of it. Nadine hadn't been keen on leaving Nina at the Avengers facility when their relationship was still healing, but the mission beckoned.

She needed to do this.

Besides, she also couldn't deny the feeling that Nina needed the time away from Nadine's near constant presence. And there was arguably no safer place than the Avengers' Compound; Nadine had made sure of that herself. So Nadine had pushed her pervasive worries aside as best she could and turned her focus over to the mission. It had been difficult…but worth it.

Now it was just a matter of putting all their research and careful planning into action.

It felt a little odd but still rather fitting on some level to be going after what could be considered one of their own so many years removed from the days when it had been a requirement. It was a little unsettling. But then Nadine only had to remind herself of just why she'd wanted to track down the older woman.

To say thank you…and to demonstrate just how well she'd kept up the skills she'd been taught.

Sure, in many respects, Madame B had just been the face Nadine and Natasha had for the institution and the program that had created them. But Nadine also very clearly remembered Madame B taking a great deal of pride in her work. There was nothing soft or compassionate in the woman. She had been a hard, cruel and exacting woman. Utterly merciless. Icy and manipulative. Perhaps not quite up to sadistic, but she'd flirted with the descriptor frequently during Nadine's time under the older woman's supervision.

And there had been no mistaking the pleased look in her cold eyes the day she'd praised Nadine for fulfilling her 'assignment'…the same day that Madame B had declared Nadya ready for Graduation. Looking back now, Nadine had little doubt the entire encounter in that abandoned room had been orchestrated by her former training mistress. She'd been entirely too satisfied, too pleased, to merely be an observing party. And adding what she now knew about the woman's background to what she remembered from back then about the supervisor? Her file said her strengths lay in strategic analysis and planning as well as asset manipulation. Well, in that they were on the nose. Madame B had played Nadya like a fiddle.

Though, she doubted the older woman had anticipated her plan backfiring quite the way it had. Nadine very much doubted Madame B had genuinely factored in the possibility that Nadine would actually run to whatever plans she'd had. Undoubtedly she had considered it; she wouldn't have been able to help but be thorough in mapping out potential outcomes, factoring Nadya's increasing disillusionment and subtly rebellious behaviour. But she'd still likely dismissed it as too improbable, assuming Nadya's instincts and conditioning for self-preservation to outweigh the risks inherent in trying to run. Not to mention how close she'd been to Graduation and the relative freedom it offered.

But Nadine wanted to be sure. She needed to know what the older woman knew, what she'd suspected and what her intuitions had been all those years before.

Nina's safety depended on it.

And Barnes' potentially did as well.

Who knew? Perhaps Madame B with her HYDRA connections, past or present, would have further clues or insights that would help them in their search for the missing super assassin.

Plus there was the undeniable desire for vengeance for all those years of torment growing up and the subsequent life of hiding and secrets she and her daughter had been forced to accept in exchange for survival. The promise of retribution and the potential for some measure of closure. That was not an aspect that could be understated.

Sure enough, as their surveillance had suggested, their target was in and out in moments. Just long enough for her espresso to be made and enough coins to cover it to be exchanged. Along with what Nadine suspected was the subtle data drop Natasha had predicted. Judging by the way the former training mistress had handed over her change, it was probably in the form of a micro memory card slipped in among the coins she deposited into a particular barista's waiting palm.

As the older woman had begun placing her order Nadine had discreetly abandoned her seat, moving along as though her small, coffee-indulgent break had come to a close. Natasha, meanwhile, wouldn't leave until after Madame B. It was all part of their carefully constructed plan.

It was then that the real work began.

As soon as Nadine was out of sight of the café she had lost her own disguise—a short, dark-haired wig, floral scarf and navy anorak jacket—and was ducking around the corner toward their car. Natasha had left it strategically placed so it wouldn't interfere with their plan while still remaining situated close by. Once there Nadine was pulling out her tablet again, this time for more than just surveillance and last minute checks. Everything had been planned down to the last detail, as befitted two master spies and assassins, one famous and one infamous, both undoubtedly among the best in the world in their fields.

Their own reputations aside, they didn't doubt Madame B would be more than capable of evading them if given the chance. If her file and the whispers both women had picked up on as they worked to track the older blonde down were even close to accurate, Madame B was just as good as they were. There was a reason why those who remained active in their line of work rarely made it into their sixties; it was quite often a lethal occupation. Even retirement, be it through switching careers or disappearing to a quiet life off the grid, was no guarantee for making it into old age; generally the term was reserved for a more…permanent departure from the trade than disappearing to the country to settle down and garden. That Madame B was still apparently an active agent at her age? She had to be good. Really good. Black Widow designation-level good. But Nadine and Natasha had been well trained and their lives had honed those skills further. The trick was in denying her any such chance without her being aware of it.

It wouldn't be an easy task.

But they weren't considered the best for nothing.

Still, as carefully as they had planned every detail? Every contingency? There was always the chance that something could go wrong. And Madame B hadn't survived for as long as she had by being stupid. Despite their extensive skill sets, there were still limits to what could be predicted and anticipated about a person—especially a person trained as the two of them and Madame B had been—from old memories, files and surveillance alone.

Not to say one couldn't predict quite a lot…

But working together? Nadine and Natasha both were optimistic about their chances.

Sure enough, as predicted based on the café's location relative to her townhouse—rented through a contact of a contact at the Embassy; smart, but not overly clever or subtle either—as well as the unconscious patterns Natasha had picked up on from her preliminary surveillance the previous week, Madame B turned east as she left the coffee shop followed immediately by a turn south.

Natasha stayed as close as she dared, guided by Nadine's watchful eye on the city's security feeds while also serving as Nadine's backup set of eyes as she tailed their former supervisor. Even then, they still very nearly did lose her a few moments later, the older woman nearly evading the surveillance Nadine was keeping through her hack into the city's CCTV. The woman had obviously cased the area for cameras, given how she was just a little too good at avoiding them or avoiding giving them a good look at her face. It was only Natasha's quick thinking and skillful improvisation on the ground that kept their plan on course.

Ultimately though, neither woman was surprised by the circumspect route their former training mistress took; it was what they themselves had been taught to do if they suspected they were being followed. It was their first clue that their target suspected someone was tailing her.

They knew for sure when Madame B's already circuitous route became more erratic before abruptly doubling back and switching tracks to a more direct route home.

It was a conclusion confirmed when, upon following her through a narrow walkway around behind a set of quiet storefronts half a block from her destination, Natasha found herself looking down the barrel of Madame B's compact Sig Sauer.

"I thought I trained you better than that, Natalia," the former supervisor said softly, the trace of a smirk on her lips belying the disappointed hum of her accented voice. Natasha could only smile politely back.

"Oh, you did." Madame B froze, though whether from the casual voice speaking up behind her or the soft click of another gun's safety being flicked off was anyone's guess. Natasha nearly chuckled at the sour expression that threatened the older woman's steely composure, her thin lips nevertheless pursing in displeasure. Nadine, meanwhile, allowed her lips to curl in a cool smile where she stood behind Madame B.

"Were we that predictable?" Natasha quipped innocently, her eyes glittering as they surveyed their former training mistress. It was obvious when the older woman realized she had gone precisely where they wanted her to go.

She'd fallen right into their trap.

"So you did find Nadine," Madame B said softly after a moment of surveying Natasha right back.

"More like she found me," Natasha countered just as softly.

"And I see you're still in touch with HYDRA," Nadine added, "or at least, you're not as 'retired' as your official file suggests."

"Old habits die hard," the older woman said with a bored scoff. Natasha nearly rolled her eyes as Madame B lazily tossed her gun aside. Neither of her former pupils was fooled for a moment. Madame B was still extremely dangerous, even without a gun in her hand; both of them would be, after all. She hadn't turned once to take her measure of Nadine, or even spared a fleeting glimpse or subtle turn of her head; that was cue enough to them both.

"Apparently," Nadine said dryly. "I imagine that also means you're going to be rather reluctant to simply answer our questions truthfully, then." The former training mistress merely raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, finally turning to glance at Nadine. Nadine was almost tempted to laugh. Almost. Despite purposefully and visibly dismissing Natasha as a real threat with the way she turned from the younger spy, it was still quite clear that Madame B's attention was still evenly split between them.

"No surprise there," Natasha muttered. Nadine didn't spare her sister a glance, keeping her focus on Madame B. She could practically see the older woman's mind working, strategizing how best to escape…and likely how best to kill them. Nadine nearly smiled at how obvious it was. Perhaps she wasn't quite as good as they had prepared for.

"What possible motivation could I have to cooperate," Madame B said softly. "I can't imagine you're planning on letting me live out this reunion."

"You're not wrong," Natasha said back, sounding nearly bored as her arms crossed over her chest. Madame B twisted to shoot the redhead—her wig from earlier long discarded—an unreadable look.

"But it would be significantly more pleasant an experience for you if you were just to tell us what we want to know," Nadine continued coolly, sparing her sister a faintly reprimanding glance of her own. Natasha just met her eye with a careless shrug.

And naturally, their former training mistress had been waiting for just such an opportunity. In a flash a baton was extending in her hand and lashing out to catch Nadine across the face. As Nadine recoiled back instinctively, her jaw throbbing painfully from the force of the blow, the older woman was already spinning to meet Natasha as the redhead leapt into action herself, only just deflecting another hard blow of the baton.

A sharp jab from an elbow followed quickly by a fierce kick to the shin, though, and Natasha was backpedalling. But before Madame B could press her split-second advantage, even as she spun to slash the baton down at Nadine, the younger blonde had recovered, deftly catching the retractable black stick and twisting it from Madame B's grip even as she latched onto the other woman's arm and wrenched her around.

Right into Natasha's waiting hands and knee.

At once, the older woman was gasping in shock and pain, staggering back to crash into the brick wall of the alley.

And Nadine snapped the baton in her hands. Madame B's eyes flashed with surprise, rage and, almost too quickly to perceive, fear. Nadine was almost tempted to let herself smirk. The older woman had forgotten just how much of an effect the Treatments had had on Nadine.

"And I thought you were trained better than that…" Natasha said, her tone mocking. Madame B glared venomously at her, her own impeccable mask slipping for a moment before she forcibly recovered, shrugging lightly.

"It was worth a try," she dismissed. Nadine tossed the snapped baton aside with an absent flick of her wrist.

"Don't aggravate her too much, Natasha…unlike most people, you know Red Room recruits clam up instead of opening up when we're pushed that way." Madame B's pale gaze turned to meet Nadine's, her features perfectly unreadable as she studied the younger blonde.

"So you've done your research on me," she said softly; it was pointedly not a question. Nadine merely smiled coolly, not caring that she was rising to the subtle dare. She was enjoying herself.

"Marta Petrivna Borychenko," she replied quietly, watching Madame B's reactions carefully even as the former training mistress' lips thinned minutely. "Born January 17th, 1955 in Kharkiv, Ukraine."

"Recruited into the Red Room Program out of an orphanage in Kiev in March 1957 after the death of both parents," Natasha took up as Nadine fell silent, the redhead sounding nearly bored, "father Petya in an industrial accident, mother Maria from pneumonia three months later. Graduated from the Red Room in June of 1963. Second recipient of the Black Widow designation since the program's inception. Shall we go on?" Madame B's icy composure was once again firmly in place, though her eyes narrowed again, this time clearly with irritation.

"You've sufficiently made your point."

"You knew I was still alive," Nadine pressed softly, "and you knew where I was," she hesitated then, struggling to tamp down the anger that had been growing ever since that disastrous flight to Seoul…when she'd realized just what Madame B had done…and what she must have known. Her voice grew cold and dangerous, but she didn't voice the question she wanted a response to most; she wanted to see what the older blonde said first. "Why didn't you take me out? I know you must have wanted to." Madame B shrugged carelessly, not rising to Nadine's goad. But, surprisingly to both Nadine and Natasha, her response was concise and brutally candid.

"You were interesting to my superiors. They were curious about you and what you'd do. And you represented a significant investment to them, Treatments aside." Her pale eyes glittered harshly then as they fixed on Nadine. "And they were curious about your child when I reported her existence." Nadine's jaw clenched. Madame B's eyes flashed with satisfaction.

"And your ties to Strucker?" Natasha pressed, sensing Nadine was reaching her patience threshold quicker than they had hoped. Madame B quirked her eyebrow again, her expression too obviously condescending to be completely genuine.

"I have had little to do with him or his affiliates in many years," she dismissed. Natasha sighed softly as though disappointed. Nadine nearly glanced to her little sister in disbelief. She'd been spending too much time around Stark, it seemed; Natasha was picking up his theatricality.

"And by affiliates you mean HYDRA," Natasha was continuing. Madame B just shrugged, but she neither confirmed nor denied it.

"And I suppose you had just as little to do with steering Zhirova to him complete with information on me and my daughter that he would find…interesting?" If Nadine's gaze before had been cool, it was now positively glacial; as merciless and unforgiving as the Russian winters they'd grown up with.

Madame B's chin lifted fractionally. "I had nothing to do with that." Nadine consciously ensured her face remained impassive when what she really wanted to do was raise a disbelieving eyebrow at the woman. She was good, but Nadine had honestly expected better. But perhaps that expectation was all thanks to Natasha. After all, her little sister could lie without the faintest trace that she was doing so if she so desired, sometimes without even trying; it was hard to compare with that. It just came naturally to the redhead. While still very good, Madame B was not that good; her two former charges were too skilled at reading lies.

"She's lying." It was said in such a way that it almost sounded curious, but Wanda's voice was equally cool as she stepped forward to Nadine's side. Her eyes flashed scarlet, a wash of distaste visible in them.

"Not much of a surprise there," Natasha responded dryly, her arms crossing loosely even as her attention remained intent on the former training mistress. "This is Wanda, by the way," she added conversationally, glancing to her nails as though examining them, picking at a rough spot with her thumb. "She has a rather…special skill set courtesy of Strucker." She glanced pointedly up to Madame B at that, raising a taunting eyebrow. "But I imagine you already put that together." Confirmation by way of a flicker of recognition appeared briefly in the older blonde's eyes. She glanced to Wanda, her eyes calculating…but she was also suddenly nervous, Nadine noticed with a grim sort of satisfaction. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Wanda, not knowing what she evidently did of the girl; enough to be wary of her, that was certain.

"She did," Wanda murmured with an air of impatience.

"We know," Nadine murmured back, a hint of a smirk on her face as she met Madame B's scathing eye, "she just told us."

Wanda turned sharply to glare at Nadine and Natasha, annoyance flaring in her eyes next to her obvious aversion to whatever she was sensing from the older woman.

"If it's so easy to tell, why exactly do you need me?" she bit out irritably. Nadine grinned slowly. Wanda visibly hesitated at the icy expression.

"We can only tell if she's lying. To actually get at the truth? We'd have to work for it, and that would take a great deal of time and effort." She turned to Wanda, her expression no less cool, but less directly threatening. "You, however, can pull the truth right out of her head." Alarm bloomed in Madame B's eyes before she could stop it. A ruthless, intrigued smile spread slowly across Wanda's face as she stepped forward, her fingers beginning to dance with her gleaming scarlet tendrils of power.

"That, I think, I can do gladly." Madame B gasped, her entire body wrenching taut as Wanda's fingers tensed, her power snapping forward to curl around the older woman, immobilizing her as misty tendrils swirled around her eyes and temples. Wanda glanced to Nadine, her eyes vivid scarlet and eager.

"What would you like to know?"


	67. Chapter 66

**Somewhere over the Atlantic**

**Summer 2015**

Whether she'd wanted to or not—and Nadine was certain she'd been leaning to 'not'—Madame B had ultimately revealed everything they'd wanted to know.

Not that Nadine was entirely satisfied with what they'd learned. Oh, on one hand she was; nearly all her suspicions had been correct. But on the other hand, she was very much  _not_  satisfied…for the same reason.

As much as she had suspected and anticipated just how much Madame B had passed along to Strucker via Katerina, she had been hoping her suppositions had been wrong. For once, she'd wanted to be wrong. Her pride was pleased to be right, of course, but her head? Her heart?

However, as Nadine started getting into the list of people read in officially and potentially on Madame B's intelligence on Nadine, it was starting to look like most of the ones confirmed to know her secrets were now dead; the heads of HYDRA, Strucker, Katerina, Azarov…Madame B…

Nadine wasn't naïve enough to think that was automatically the end of it. There was really no knowing if any of those who'd known had secreted digital or physical records of the information away for safekeeping, or who they may have passed the information on to or who may have even inadvertently overheard discussion about her in passing. There was simply no knowing for sure. And with all those authorized to know being dead, there was no asking them. With what Nadine knew of HYDRA's hierarchy, penchant for compartmentalization and secrecy, modus operandi and with what they'd gotten out of Madame B, she was fairly certain that, sensitive as the information was—after all, she had been a valuable asset for HYDRA, unwillingness aside—and as critical as it was as a tool against her, it seemed a fairly safe conclusion to draw that her secrets were likely safe.

Not that she wanted to bet on it. Not when Nina's safety was still at stake.

Better safe than sorry, and all that.

So as Natasha took the pilot's seat, setting them on a course back to the Avenger's new base, Nadine was doing some preliminary digging onto associates and 'heirs presumptive' within HYDRA of those on Madame B's list. While each and every word Wanda had pulled from Madame B's head or pushed her to reveal had felt like a knife twisting into her chest, the more Nadine dug into what the training mistress had spilled, the more the feeling was beginning to ease.

It was starting to feel possible—just possible, just maybe—that with a little more work, a few strategic hacks, maybe a break and enter or two and few discreet hits, only people Nadine trusted—or at least tentatively trusted wouldn't betray her secrets—would know the truth of her daughter's heritage.

It was a weight Nadine had been carrying for so long that she couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like for it to lift. She knew it would never disappear entirely, but at least it would ease as any potential loose ends remaining from Madame B's interference were tied.

And so far, it was looking promising; a lot of 'dead' and 'incarcerated' statuses…but mostly 'dead's.

Things really hadn't been going well for HYDRA's upper tiers or their 'old guard.'

The 'incarcerated's could be tracked down, questioned and, if necessary, dealt with easily enough. Despite Nadine's intent to take care of it herself—it was another of those things she knew she needed to do, not to mention she was a little gun shy of trusting anyone else with the task—Natasha had already volunteered her assistance…as had Wanda. That had surprised both spies. But, as Wanda had explained darkly, no one was better suited to get to the truth than she was…and that she owed it to Nina. Nadine had been just as startled by that assertion as she had been by the offer, but Wanda had clammed up then and, advanced skills or not, unlike Wanda Nadine couldn't read minds. So she let it rest for the time being.

She glanced up to the young Sokovian. Wanda was curled up on the Quinjet's central bank of seats, so deeply asleep Nadine suspected she could've fired a gun and the girl wouldn't even stir.

The interrogation of Natasha and Nadine's former training mistress had, unsurprisingly, taken a lot out of the girl. To the point where she'd been all but nodding off as Natasha and Nadine had finished covering their tracks in Paris. By the time they had made it back to the Quinjet, Wanda had been all but dead on her feet. She hadn't even objected when Nadine had all but ordered her to get some rest on the trip back to the new Avenger's Compound.

Sure enough, Natasha had barely gotten the Quinjet in the air before Wanda was out like a light. Looking at her now, her face relaxed in sleep as it rarely was awake, the girl looked so young. Too young to have experienced all that she had. But Nadine had to admit that she bore it well enough, all things considered. Few would be holding up half so well. Wanda Maximoff had a steel to her, that was for sure. She just needed to learn that she did for herself.

Wanda had scared herself in Sokovia. That had become increasingly clear on their way across to ocean toward Vienna. The things she'd allowed herself to do? To mess with the Avengers' heads? To set Stark on the path that lead to Ultron? To destroy Ultron Prime as viciously and remorseless as she had? The destruction she'd wrought in her pain when she'd believed her twin had been killed? Nadine had honestly begun to wonder if the girl would be up to the task they had charged her by the time they made landfall in Europe. Especially when she and Natasha had been questioning her about her abilities, looking to get a measure of them. She had been more than willing to answer their questions about her telepathic abilities, even letting them test out if they could mentally resist or even combat them. But when they probed further? Wanda had very nearly shut down.

It hadn't been until Madame B had been cornered and Wanda had made her entrance that Nadine had truly believed Wanda would be up to fulfilling her role in the mission. Obviously something she had seen in Madame B's head had motivated her past her own reservations.

Yet, not for the first time, Nadine wondered if it had really been such a good idea bringing the Sokovian girl along, in involving her in Natasha's and Nadine's mission. It had not been pleasant, and neither of the former Red Room recruits had been the one literally digging inside the older woman's head. Sure, it had sped up their questioning of Madame B exponentially, but at the same time…

…but at the same time Nadine still stood by her call that Wanda needed the distraction and the focus the mission had provided. Wanda had been able to push past her reservations to get the job done; an important step. And the exertion; since that day in Sokovia, Nadine had come across the Twins and her daughter succumbing to afternoon naps on several occasions, and rarely had she noticed Wanda sleeping either peacefully or deeply. Honestly, she couldn't recall having seen Wanda sleeping as comfortably as she was now in the whole, albeit short, time that she'd know her.

But more than any distraction of focus or exertion, Nadine knew Wanda had needed to do something that let her feel like she was keeping those she cared about safe—Nina, in this case. Nadine had seen it as clearly in the young brunette as though she'd had it written across her forehead. Nadine knew that feeling quite well. It was a big part of why she'd latched on to the idea of tracking down Madame B so strongly herself; she'd felt like she'd failed so often the last few weeks that she'd needed to feel like she was actively succeeding in protecting her daughter again. To do that, they'd had a very specific list of questions that they'd needed answered. So, uneasy as she had been about including Wanda in the mission at all—not only was she so young, but Nadine still had reservations about trusting her—she had been the best tool they had. And they'd needed Madame B to spill virtually everything.

In that the mission had been an indisputable success. Of that there was little doubt. Natasha and Nadine had played Madame B like a fiddle, herding their old training mistress precisely where they'd wanted her to go and Wanda had been ruthlessly effective at picking apart the older woman's mind whenever she'd tried to lie as they'd questioned her; it hadn't been long before the older woman hadn't even bothered trying to lie anymore. And Natasha and Nadine had been quite thorough in their questioning. By the time they'd finished with Madame B, there was nothing left worth learning.

Then they'd finished her.

Even now, hours later, satisfaction still hummed through Nadine at the thought. One of the last, major threats to her secrets, and thus her daughter's safety, had been neutralized. It was a big win in her book.

And Nadine was not so noble that she was above admitting that she had taken a great deal of satisfaction in exacting her vengeance.

It was especially gratifying given everything that the older woman had admitted.

Nadine had apparently been the older woman's failure just as she'd once viewed Natasha as her greatest success. Nadine hadn't been wrong when she'd wondered all those years before if Madame B hadn't resented her. If the only reason she'd survived those last few months in the Red Room had been because the Treatments had worked on her and her alone.

She'd been too headstrong in a way that Natasha hadn't been. Or at least, Nadine hadn't played along the way Natasha had. She certainly hadn't been subtle in hiding her disillusionment in the Red Room by the end. And Madame B had resented it.

She had felt spurned.

Rejected.

Threatened.

Even jealous.

That had nearly astonished Nadine more than just about anything else the older woman had been forced to reveal. Natasha had merely met Nadine's gaze sympathetically; the redhead had apparently suspected had as much. Nadine had been clever, talented, quick to learn, driven to survive and, on top of it all, the Treatments had worked on her.

The Treatments had worked on her, and Madame B hadn't even been offered the opportunity. Nadine had become smarter, stronger, faster—better—than Madame B had ever been, and Madame B had been the best. She'd held the 'Black Widow' designation for a time before she'd set it aside to take over the Red Room in search of a successor, after all. She had to be the best.

Nadya had been poised to potentially become one of the Red Room's greatest Graduates, to outshine Madame B in every way. To be everything Madame B had been, once strived to be, and more.

The new model. The upgrade. The true next generation of the program.

Madame B's replacement.

The one with the potential to wipe away everything Madame B had worked for and built.

The one who could've made Madame B and her vision of the Red Room program obsolete.

Madame B had come to hate and fear her for it.

And a petty little part of her had wanted Nadya to fail so she would still be the best the Red Room had produced.

Even Natasha hadn't been able to touch her place as the best, or so Madame B had convinced herself; of that fact, Nadine was profoundly skeptical. Though there were specific skills Nadine was more proficient with than her little sister, as a overall agent, she wasn't too proud to admit Natasha surpassed her. She had been when they were kids still. And these days? There was a reason Natasha had been designated Black Widow. She was the best. And Nadine didn't doubt that her sister had far and away surpassed Madame B as the Red Room's best.

But maybe she was just biased.

Still, before the Treatments, and even during the early days of the sub-program, Nadya had shown the potential to be Madame B's shining pupil; the ultimate feather in the older woman's cap. Possibly even the next Black Widow; the heir to Madame B's own achievements; her hand chosen successor; her legacy.

Someone she could mould and control and make into her own image. A tool that she could wield and one whose loyalty she could foster.

Someone to do her proud without surpassing her.

Even after the Treatments had begun to take hold, Madame B had nearly convinced herself that she could still manage that goal, that she could look past the threat that Nadya had become and find a way to manipulate the potential fallout over Nadya's success into a means to protect and strengthen her beloved program. If she could've been the one to make Nadya what she was? If she could convince her superiors Nadine had become the best  _because_  of her and her program? She could've set aside her wounded pride—or possibly soothed or even mended it—had she played her cards right. While still a threat, the damage would've been minimized.

But then she had realized that Nadya wouldn't be so easy to control. She realized that the threat Nadya posed couldn't be so easily countered. Even if Nadya had made it through the program and become the best? Not only would she have threatened the program, but Madame B herself. She couldn't be controlled. Not by her. Nadya hadn't quite been driven to please, and she hadn't felt quite the same desire for Madame B's approval as many of the others had.

Like Natasha had.

Especially once the Treatments had started.

So she had proven a disappointment. Far more than a disappointment, really. She hadn't been one to strive for Madame B's praise or attention. She hadn't had the same driving ambition as Katerina or even Natasha. Nadine had just wanted to survive.

So it meant threatened she could understand on some level. Especially the more she thought about it. More than just Nadine's future had hinged on her success as a spy and assassin. She'd represented the future of the Red Room, for good or bad. Optimistically, she could've been an affirmation on the old—whether it was still relevant, if its results and strengths still outweighed the brutality and sheer effort and dedication of time and resources required to achieve them—while simultaneously standing as an example of the new—the potential; the program's next evolution. More likely, though, she would've proven that it was no longer viable the way it had been before. That the Red Room as Madame B envisioned would be obsolete in the face of what the Treatments could do.

So Madame B had resolved not to take that risk. She had decided to get rid of Nadine and spin the Treatment sub-program as a failure before Nadya could have a chance to make a mark in the wider world that would more likely condemn Madame B's Red Room than enforce it.

And that was without even considering the personal threat. The threat that Nadya would turn on Madame B. That, not only would Nadine destroy her accomplishments in the Red Room, but potentially destroy the training mistress as well.

Since the future of the Red Room had potentially been at stake, it meant Madame B's had as well. Nadine's successes or failures as a Graduate and agent would have reflected directly on Madame B and the program she'd been building, nurturing and protecting nearly as long as Nadine had been alive. It had been on Nadya's shoulders to prove that the Red Room program was still viable and was capable of advancing along with the changing world around them. It would've proven Madame B was still effective as the program's supervisor and primary director.

But it could've also seen the Red Room being terminated, along with Madame B, for the same reason: because Nadine had become everything Madame B's superiors had hoped.

But when Nadine had successfully run, it had changed everything. Madame B's plans had hinged on Nadya's death in the Red Room. They had been built around her ability to blame Nadya's failure as a potential agent on the Treatments instead of her tutelage. So when Nadine had run instead of failed, it had taken every skill the older woman had possessed to spin that development to still reflect on the Treatment sub-program and not on the Red Room itself. She'd barely been able to keep the Red Room programme under her control. More than that, apparently she had barely been able to keep the Red Room active. But to the training mistress, it had still been worth it. The Red Room had survived in a probationary capacity, which was still preferable to the Red Room being stolen away from her.

From it getting shut down because Nadine had succeeded.

It meant 'threatened' Nadine could understand.

But rejected? Nadine hadn't been able to wrap her head around that anymore than the idea that Madame B had been jealous. She still couldn't.

If Madame B had been so threatened by her that she'd actively tried to destroy Nadya, why should she possibly feel rejected? The way Nadine saw it, Madame B had turned her back on her first.

She had argued that point, adding in that she had never been the recruit Natasha had been. That, even with the Treatments, she hadn't had nearly the potential her little sister had shown. But Natasha's look of sympathy had only deepened, and Madame B had scoffed weakly; she had been fighting Wanda's intrusions valiantly, but at great cost to her own strength. But she had countered of her own will.

"It wasn't just about skills. It was much more. It was about will, and willingness. You could have been every bit as exceptional as Natalia. Just like you, she didn't know her potential. Not until she turned to me. Not until I showed her. And once she did, it was because of me that she finally accepted it and thrived…that she discovered her true ambition. You, however, refused to let me help you, to show you how to embrace your full potential, to become  _more_ …you refused my help…refused to embrace what you are.

"At least, you did until you were on your own…" Nadine had recoiled hard at that. Had she really rejected what she'd been becoming in that place?

Had she really embraced what she'd been made once she'd left?

When she'd once again argued that she'd done no such thing, that she'd only done the things she had in order to survive, because she'd been given no other options, Madame B had actually summoned the strength to laugh.

"Of course you did! You  _are_  the Ghost.

"What further evidence do you need?" Nadine's heart had plummeted at the inarguable truth behind her words. "Once you'd run? You embraced all of it. But when you were still in the Red Room, once the Treatments had made you stronger? You rejected everything we'd given you when you were no longer afraid of failing; everything we'd raised you to be." Nadine had felt sick.

She still did.

"You rejected everything I was willing to give you." Nadine had been unable to do anything but stare at the woman in wide-eyed shock.

It was what had been at the heart of it all. Nadine had rejected her beloved program and had rejected her. It had stung more than just a simple failure to train her. It was why Madame B had begun to view her as a threat. It was why Madame B had turned against her. Tormented her. Pushed her to the brink, hoping she'd break.

And why she'd ultimately set Nadya up to die.

It was the one conclusion about what had happened all those years before that Nadine had been wrong about:

Madame B had counted on Nadya trying to run.

Barnes had been waiting for her in the garage that night.

From the instant the Winter Soldier's handlers had complained of the apparent sexual tension between him and Nadya disrupting the efficacy of his programming, Madame B had seen only opportunity. Especially once she'd picked up on Nadya's distaste for what had been done to Barnes and her then unconscious sympathy for him.

Nadine had been right in that Madame B's hands had been tied against orchestrating her failure in training. One: by the time she had seriously begun considering getting rid of Nadya, it would've been obvious that it hadn't been a natural failure on Nadya's part but something contrived to get rid of her. Two: the program's directors had wanted her to Graduate so they could then harness and take advantage of her Enhancement in combination with the skills learned in the Red Room. They'd apparently had big plans for her. It meant Madame B's options had been limited indeed. Katerina's rage hadn't been enough against Nadya once the Treatments had taken hold, even as encouraged as she'd been by Madame B, not that the training mistress had genuinely expected that to work in the first place. But it had apparently been worth a try at that point. But then the Winter Soldier had happened.

The only thing Madame B hadn't anticipated?

The Winter Soldier himself.

She hadn't anticipated him letting Nadya go. She hadn't believed him capable. She'd believed he would comply with his orders to kill anyone attempting to leave the facility without question. Needless to say, none of it had gone over well…for Madame B or Barnes. Nadine had been overcome by a crush of guilt that still hadn't entirely dissipated, her gut clenching and churning painfully when the former training mistress had so dismissively mentioned that he'd promptly been subjected to a round of memory modifications after the incident. Neither had he remained in the Red Room long after that; it had been decided that the hard reset being put back in cryo was necessary to properly maintain his programming.

So he'd gone to sleep until his next mission.

And Madame B had been put on probation; it was only Natasha's success that had saved not only the training mistress' job, but possibly her life as well. Well, Natasha's success and Madame B's discovery following Nadya's escape.

Nadya's last medical, from right before she'd run, had revealed her pregnancy, and Madame B hadn't hesitated to use that to her advantage. Nadine's pregnancy had been an unexpected development, but ultimately not an unwelcome one to the training mistress' mind. She'd secreted the discovery away, sitting on it—and using it to track down Nadine on her own while Katerina fumbled along after Nadya, bearing the brunt of the directors' scrutiny—formulating her new plan, until the opportune moment came. It was then that she had used Nadine's location and the existence of Nina to leverage her way back into favour.

Nadine had figured out the rest.

They hadn't needed much else from the former training mistress after that.

And Nadine had been only too happy to wash her hands of her former supervisor.

It's often said that the act of vengeance itself never lives up to the fantasy of it, that it leaves the one acting upon the urge feeling hollow and unfulfilled. But in this case?

Very little had felt so satisfying as hearing that damned woman's neck break.

Just like the necks of so many of her young charges.

There was no feeling of hollowness. No regret. Nothing but vindication and relief. It was sustaining Nadine through the task now set before her thanks to what they'd learned from the older woman; ensuring that her secrets were safe and her daughter with them. And once she had completed that task?

She would find Barnes.

As her thoughts turned to him, her hand slid to the pouch on her belt that held the drives she'd retrieved from her Workshop. While perhaps not the most natural choice of location to serve as their home base in their mission to go after Madame B—Vienna wasn't exactly close to Paris, after all—Nadine had pushed past her reluctance to reveal its location to anyone and insisted they use her Workshop for the final stages of planning. Not only was it well equipped and appointed for their final preparations and as a launch point for their mission, it was also where Nadine had left everything she had on Barnes. And if she was going to find him? She needed it. All of it. And though she still wished she had more, she did have a fair bit.

The instant the lights in her Workshop had hummed to life, Natasha had whistled low from behind Nadine as she'd followed the blonde assassin inside, sounding decidedly impressed. Turning back to her, Nadine had immediately understood why. Almost as soon as they'd been illuminated the redhead had caught sight of the stretch of bulletin boards laden with the extent of Nadine's research for her personal mission; to track down the Winter Soldier. Not that it was solely personal anymore. Her little sister had spared Nadine an impressed glance.

"You really have been busy."

Nadine had only been able to roll her eyes before forcibly steering Natasha away from moving in to examine the meticulously organized boards and back on track to the mission at hand. As it was, when they'd taken a break from their last minute preparations, Natasha had been looking over Nadine's shoulder nearly the entire time she'd been packing up and backing up what she'd wanted to bring back to the Compound with her from her search thus far, the redhead only barely restraining the thousand questions Nadine had seen surfacing in her sister's keen eyes.

But it wasn't the time to focus on that just yet. Nina came first. So, as Natasha stood from the pilot's seat and made her way back the where she sat, Nadine forced her attention back to the screen before her. Mercifully Natasha didn't say anything as she settled next to Nadine, no matter that she could tell she wanted to, the redhead's eyes skimming over the names displayed on the console instead.

"Any progress," she finally asked softly, conscious to keep her voice low. Neither of them had the heart to wake Wanda just yet. Nadine nodded sedately.

"It's looking promising," Nadine admitted after a moment, swiping her compiled list of names complete with statuses, locations and other relevant information onto the console's tablet and handing it to Natasha to look over. An expression of grim satisfaction slid across Natasha's face as she skimmed over the list before handing the tablet back to the blonde assassin.

"You're going to go after them," she asked softly, the question very obviously not a real one. Nadine didn't even bother to nod, merely meeting her little sister's eye before turning back to the console. Natasha said nothing, and for that Nadine was grateful.

It was then that a soft chime broke through the quiet of the Quinjet. As she looked over, Nat was already reaching across the console to accept the call evidently coming in. She didn't even have to say anything for Nadine to guess who it was. The way some of the tension eased from her sister's frame was clue enough.

"Hey, Clint," she answered softly. "How's the simple life?" There was no mistaking how at ease her sister was with the archer. It was more than enough to have a grin teasing Nadine's lips, allowing her to set aside her heavier thoughts. For a few moments at least.

"It's good, you know. Everyone's good. Happy I'm home."

"The Team will be glad to hear it," Nadine offered softly before tacking on a nearly cheeky, "hi, Barton." As Clint chuckled, his phone only just barely picking up the muffled sound, it was only then that she noticed Natasha's brow creasing faintly, her head tilting minutely in thought.

"Hey, Ryker." She grinned for real at the almost wry greeting he offered back. But she had also finally detected what it was that had Natasha suddenly frowning and her gaze sharpening. There was an almost nervous, even anxious thread to Barton's tone.

"So what's going on, Clint?" Though it was said casually enough, there was no mistaking the insistence in Natasha's voice. Nadine looked to her sister, only barely picking up the shadow of concern that had appeared in her familiar green gaze. On the other end of the line Barton huffed out another soft chuckle.

"Not much. Just wondering if you're up for a bit of last-minute babysitting." Natasha glanced up to Nadine.

"Last-minute—everything okay?"

"Oh yeah," he brushed off, though it was hard to tell over the phone, it sounded just a little too unconcerned for Nadine to believe it was genuine. "It's just that the Boss says little Nate isn't satisfied with the current accommodations anymore." At once Nat's eyes went wide and she looked up to Nadine again with mingled worry and excitement. Nadine frowned, knowing she should know what he was alluding to.

"I thought he was paid up for a couple more weeks," Natasha remarked lightly, keeping up the teasing tone despite the way the concern shadowing her features deepened. "He's coming early." At once Nadine clued in.

"Not that early," Barton assured her, though now that Nadine was looking for it, there was definitely an anxious cast to the archer's tone. Excitement for sure, but also a deep worry. "But Laura's sure he's not keen on waiting any longer."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Natasha was abruptly assuring him.

"There's no hurry, Nat," Clint broke in then, nevertheless sounding rather relieved. "I just dropped Lila and Cooper at school, so it's not a huge rush for you to get here." But Nat didn't seem to quite be listening, glancing to the clock on the console, quick calculations obviously flashing through her mind. Nadine couldn't help but grin again; she couldn't help but love that Nat knew exactly when the Barton kids got home from school. She forcibly ignored the small twinge of jealousy that accompanied her amusement, though.

"Well, we're about midway back across the Atlantic now," Nat countered absently, "so we should just make it before the troops get home if we don't stop." Nadine could almost swear she heard Barton frown as Nat looked up to her. "Nadine can drop me off and head back to base from there."

"I'm not interrupting a mission, am I?" It was asked innocently enough, but Nadine could hear a similar concern to Natasha's from a moment before.

"Coming back," Natasha dismissed, complete with absent wave that Barton couldn't see. "Nadine needed to pick up a few things from her Workshop." Nadine suspected that it made little difference that they weren't face to face. She wouldn't have been surprised if, on the other end of the line, Barton was frowning in a way that said he very much knew there was more too it than that. Good as she was at keeping things to herself when she chose, Natasha had made little effort to hide that there was more she wasn't saying. Not with Barton.

"Nat—"

"If you need me there, Clint, I'll be there," the redhead broke in earnestly. Over the phone, Clint sighed in unmistakable relief.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Next to Nadine, Natasha grinned. With a quick goodbye and assurances from Clint that he'd pass on Nat and Nadine's best to Laura the call disconnected. A small huffing sigh escaped Natasha as she leaned back in her seat for a moment, her mind working fast behind her eyes. Nadine instantly recognized the expression. She was filing away whatever she had been replaying and dwelling on from their mission. But almost as soon as the expression had appeared it was gone and Natasha was looking to Nadine, her vibrant eyes shining with anticipation.

"You up for a detour?" Nadine smiled at her sister as the redhead stood.

"Why not."


	68. Chapter 67

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Summer 2015**

With a tap, Nina had disconnected the call. Well, it was a relief to hear from her mom. But she wasn't quite sure how she'd felt about the change of plans Nadine had called to tell her about. She was anxious for her mom to come back. For oh so many reasons.

The main one being that she felt awful about shutting her out the way she had.

And that she'd let her leave without really trying to patch things up.

That she'd been upset, mad even, with her mom was no surprise. Nadine hadn't seemed surprised by it. Sad perhaps, but not surprised or even disappointed. Neither had Natasha, the Twins or even Captain Rogers. Unsurprisingly, even once he'd heard it all, even though he—begrudgingly—understood as Nina did, Pietro had seethed on her behalf once she'd finally calmed enough to be able to relate what her mom had told her, needing both Nina and Wanda to talk him out of confronting Nadine himself. Wanda had been sadly sympathetic, confirming in Nina's mind that the Sokovian girl had picked up on at least a little of what Nina had learned already from Nina, Nadine or both.

Nina, though, hadn't been entirely sure what to think or feel. She still didn't. It was for that reason more than resentment or anger that had her keeping her distance from her mom the last couple weeks. Oh, she was angry and resentful as well, but it was tempered by the inescapable realization that her mom had been cornered and that her reasons for keeping the secrets she did had been good ones. Much as part of Nina stubbornly didn't want to see Nadine's side of it, she had come to understand that Nadine had had few options and fewer good ones. She had kept Nina safe for nearly eighteen years because of the secrets she'd kept. Because of everything she'd done. Had they not been betrayed?

But that line of thought always brought a renewed yet different brand of resentment. Had they not been betrayed? Had Nina not been kidnapped and dragged into her mom's world? Would Nadine have ever told her the truth?

Nina didn't know. She wanted to believe she would have, that Nadine would have told her everything—or at least started—once she'd turned eighteen as Nadine had admitted had been her plan. But there was no knowing now. Nina knew the truth, or at least most of it, and Nadine had been the one to tell her for the most part. But she hadn't been the one to get the ball rolling, as it were. So part of her still wanted to ask, just so she could try and discern if Nadine would have. That and there was still a lot she wanted to ask about the rest of it.

But she simply had too many questions. Whenever she so much thought about bringing even one of them to her mom, the rest would crowd up to the front of her mind, causing her head to ache and her thoughts to jumble. Not to mention her powers would begin to build in her chest in reaction to her stress, requiring her to turn her attention to consciously reining them back; that she was getting better at doing so was one positive to the situation at least.

Rather, NIna had a strong suspicion that her mom wouldn't answer a good portion of her questions even if she were able to get them out. Oh, she'd likely be honest about it. Surprisingly, after learning just how extensively their lives had been built on secrets and how much Nadine had kept from her, Nina didn't doubt that. She very much suspected that her mom had turned over a new leaf since Sokovia and was resolved not to hide herself away behind her Ghost persona or what Nina now realized was her 'ballet mistress' one. Nadine was actually letting herself be Nadine. Not that she was always successful, but she was obviously trying.

More than that, she seemed visibly liberated by the decision. Nina was beginning to see a whole new side of her mom that she had never even suspected existed. And one effect of that shift had been an openness to Nadine that Nina was still getting used to. So the knowledge that Nadine wouldn't brush aside or deflect her questions was something else Nina suddenly didn't doubt; Nadine  _wanted_  to be honest with her. It meant that, were Nina to ask the questions she wanted to, Nadine would be frank about not being able to answer. She would be blunt yet apologetic and tell Nina the answer was too dangerous or that it wasn't the right time.

That she wasn't ready to hear it.

Nina resented that particular line of reasoning.

She wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't so naïve as she had been even a few weeks ago. She supposed she still was on some level, but she'd been thrown into this world of Avengers and Enhancements and Supervillains headfirst and she had come out the other side stronger for it. She just knew it. Perhaps it hadn't been as wholly on her own merits as it could've been, but she had still survived. More than survived, really. She had proven that there was more to her than met the eye…right? She had survived the Sceptre, Ultron and even a rain of bullets all on her own. She'd fought back against Strucker's mercenaries and had stood up to Ultron's sentries, even helping Captain America in the process. She'd fought past her own fears, letting her instincts to step up and help—to even fight—take the lead. That all had to count for something, right?

Instead she'd been left behind again to wait for her mom to come back just as she had a hundred times before. Another point for resentment, really. She wanted to  _help_! She wanted to be a part of what was happening.

Especially since she suspected she somehow had a stake in whatever her mom had left to do.

The situation was somewhat familiar. Her mom had gone off on some sort of mission and Nina was left waiting for her to return. Somewhat anxiously. No…not somewhat. Quite anxiously.

Whenever her mom had gone off for work, part of Nina had always worried—with good reason, it seemed. But now that she undeniably  _knew_  that her mom's trips weren't so innocuous as an errand for the Studio, but rather a mission in her capacity as The Ghost? Nina's gut churned and ached and she was on the verge of nibbling at her nails again; a nervous habit she had broken herself of years ago.

That was how anxious she was.

Especially after everything that had happened last time her mom had gone off.

But her mom wasn't alone this time, Nina forcefully reminded herself. Natasha had gone with her. It helped ease the crushing worry some even if it didn't banish it completely.

And it seemed that Wanda had gone too. According to Pietro, Natasha had approached his twin about helping them on their mission. How, he hadn't said. All he'd known was that Wanda had agreed.

It left a shard of jealousy festering alongside her worry.

Why hadn't they asked her along too? A small, little voice declared it was because she'd have been along only to watch, so what would've been the point. She tried to ignore it. She was sure she would've been able to help somehow.

It was all very unpleasant.

And irritating. Could they really think she was incapable of handling herself? She was beginning to feel physically ill at only being allowed to sit and wait and watch and worry while those she cared about went off and did dangerous things, necessary or not.

Without realizing it, she huffed out her irritation as she sank further into her seat on the couch. The Avengers' common area was mercifully empty. As much as she wouldn't necessarily mind some company, she wasn't exactly sure anyone else would be okay with just letting her sit with her own thoughts. Save Natasha. Natasha was good for that. The redheaded spy always seemed to know exactly what Nina needed most, be it an ear to listen or just the company. But Natasha was away. With her mother. On a mission that Nina was wishing she was a part of. Or at the very least, that she knew what it was about. She was sure she could live with even that.

"Unlike my sister, I cannot read minds. So you will have to tell me what is bothering you." Nina spun to look at Pietro as he leaned over the back of the couch, his voice startling her abruptly from her thoughts. She merely shot him an exasperated look in response. An amused chuckle escaped him before he hopped lightly over the couch back to flop down next to her with his characteristic easy grace. She narrowed her eyes at him at the move, earning only a smug look. Despite herself, Nina couldn't help but grin, her ire fading. He was another one whose easy company she could handle. It wasn't often that he pushed, but when he did, it was usually because he could seem to tell she needed to talk.

Just like after her mom had told her everything.

"It's nothing," she automatically insisted, barely realizing the words left her mouth. His skeptical look was all the admonishment he needed to give. Nina's nose wrinkled with exasperation as she met his eye. "You know, half the time Wanda can't read me anymore, either," she pointed out. He merely shrugged.

"All the more reason for you to say it out loud," he countered easily before smirking, "and you're deflecting." She huffed. It had been worth a try. Her arms wound tighter around her torso as everything she'd been dwelling on came back. Only for her thoughts to jerk free again as she was tucked tightly against Pietro's side, his arm curling around her shoulders. She sighed, the gesture more comforting than she'd expected given her state of mind. Not that it completely banished her unease and her resentment.

"They left me behind," she finally said, part of her reluctant to share it even though the words had nearly spilled out of their own will. She felt more than heard Pietro's stifled sigh.

"I know the feeling," he said, sounding grumpy about it. She couldn't help but grin. She had suspected he felt the same way. Pietro wasn't one to sit still, after all. More than that, Wanda had gone with. And Nina could see how antsy it made Pietro to be separated from her for too long. He'd been moving almost constantly since they'd left, unable to sit still. Even now, his knee was jiggling, the movement unconscious and impatient.

But his body was technically still healing. While Dr. Cho had said he was almost as good as new thanks to his treatments with her Cradle device, she had all but forbidden him from doing anything too exerting for the next two weeks. "The damage was extensive, after all, and while the Cradle can perform virtual miracles," Pietro had quoted the doctor the day she'd explained it to him, his annoyance clear in his voice and poor imitation, "your body still needs to stabilize and finish integrating the new tissue to finish healing completely." Too much strain, and he risked his body rejecting the still fragile repaired and printed tissue. Especially the internal repairs. So begrudgingly, he was following the doctor's orders. To some extent. Nina was pretty sure he was stretching his legs a little more everyday, working himself back up to his former speeds as gradually as his impulsive nature would allow.

"I want to  _do_  something." He was still obviously chafing against being grounded the way Nina was. She sighed. It wasn't just  _something_  she wanted to do.

"I wanted to go with them," she confessed softly. He looked down at her then, and she could swear she felt his sympathy without even having to look up and see it in his face. "They brought Wanda, but not me, and it's  _my_  mom and aunt."

"I know," he murmured, his arm tightening around her shoulders. "But she needed it more than we do. I just don't want to sit around," he admitted bluntly, "you don't want to be left in the dark again. Wanda? She…she needed to get out of her own head, and talking about it wasn't enough anymore." She hummed absently at the observation, sinking into thought again as she nestled closer, enjoying the feel of his warmth. The solid feel of him next to her. It was reassuring. Grounding. As was the knowledge that she believed he really did know how she felt. At the very least, he respected it enough to accept it. And as his frank words sank in, part of her had to cede that he was right about all three of them. Especially about Wanda, that she needed a mission. That it would be good for her. Everything that had happened had been weighing heavily on the Sokovian girl.

Given how wonderful the Twins had been in letting her simply talk about everything weighing on her, Nina had been more than happy to do the same for the Twins, something Wanda had been reluctant to take advantage of at first. But open up she had, and Nina had done her utmost to be as supportive as the older girl had needed just as Wanda had been for her. And there had been a lot to unburden. Once Wanda had opened up—sharing that she had played a critical role in the creation of Ultron among everything else that had happened—Nina's heart had nearly broken for the pain and guilt her friend was struggling to bear. And she began to understand why the Sokovian girl had begun to withdraw into herself a little better. Not perfectly, but she did. Wanda felt responsible for everything. And as much as having someone to listen without judging had helped, Nina couldn't help the gut instinct that it wasn't quite enough. While confessing how he'd felt about everything had happened during the Ultron Fiasco had proven cathartic for Pietro, it given Wanda only a sense of relief that she'd let it out. The weight hadn't lifted for her quite the same way it had for her brother.

So Nina suspected Pietro was right that Wanda had needed an outlet. A distraction, as he'd called it: a way to get out of her own head for a time. And if anyone would, it was Pietro who would know best if his sister needed it more than he needed her close.

Even if it left him feeling even more anxious and worried than Nina.

And she couldn't help but admit that he was probably right about her. At the crux of Nina's feelings on the matter really was the fear of being shut out. She supposed she didn't  _need_  to go along. Not the same way Wanda did. She would've liked to, to be sure, but the more she thought about it, the more she had to admit that Pietro was right that it was more that she didn't want to be left out of the loop. She wanted to  _know_  what was going on even if she didn't necessarily need to participate. She wanted to  _know_  if the people she cared about were risking their lives rather than wondering if they might be. It was a subtle distinction, but still an important one to her.

It allowed her to realize that a little part of her was okay with staying behind…at least this time. She was new to this side of the world, after all, and overwhelmed was a mild term for what she felt when she let herself really think about it all, about everything that had changed. She didn't even know yet if she was okay with the idea that she was definitively separate from the 'normal' world now. She'd never quite realized just how she'd never truly felt like she belonged in the life she'd lived, like there'd been something missing, until she'd been stolen away from it, but still…it had been all she'd known.

She needed to know more about her new reality. She needed to learn more.

She needed to learn how to be a part of the Avengers' world.

And she wanted to learn.

Or at least, part of her did. The fact that everything that had happened in Sokovia haunted her potentially contradicted that desire. Or perhaps affirmed it. Maybe her desire to join the fight was a subconscious means of fighting back against her lingering fears of everything that had happened. If she was like the Avengers? If she could fight like them,  _with_  them? Well, what had happened to her in Sokovia wouldn't happen again. She wouldn't be alone.

She wouldn't be helpless.

Maybe. She wasn't a shrink, so she didn't know if such musings were on point or if they were nonsense. It was just a feeling. Maybe it was just that she wanted to feel safe again, like she could take care of herself. Perhaps that was what was behind her desire to learn more about this world than any real desire to join the fight.

That, and needing to learn how to control and use her new powers…and how to live with them.

Still…

"I just—I wish…" she sighed, her shoulders slumping as her anxiety began to fade in the wake of her little epiphany, leaving only a sad sort of resignation. Part of her certainly understood now what her mom had tried to do. "I wish I was just…normal again."

"No you don't." She looked sharply to Pietro, her eyes going wide with surprise and a little annoyance. Nonchalant as he'd sounded, and despite the amused glint in his eyes, his expression was rather intent. "You belong here with all of us and you know it," he said with an absent gesture. Nina gaped.

But at the same time he was right. She knew he was right. She could feel it. She  _felt_  like she belonged in this place, with these people, in a way she never had in Vienna or anywhere else they'd lived. In a way that she'd only ever felt with her mom. It was a realization that broke over her like a wave; a slow, building comprehension that suddenly crashed into her, bowling her over with the truth of it. She just hadn't been able to see it. She hadn't thought to.

She'd been afraid to. Afraid of what it meant. The realization fluttered uncomfortably in her chest.

"Besides. If you were normal? You wouldn't have met me," he added with a smug grin. And the anxious feeling was gone. With a scoff that did a terrible job at hiding her laughter, she twisted and shoved at his chest, fighting back a grin. He chuckled, looking down at her with his smug, fond smirk. And a fluttery feeling woke in her belly that she hadn't felt since before the battle, her cheeks warming at the sensation. How did he do that?

Because she liked him, of course. The realization was not a new one, but rather one she had been trying not to dwell on just in case. He was funny and surprisingly sweet behind the bravado, and despite claiming that his sister was the smart, compassionate one, he was just as insightful and caring as Wanda when he wanted to be. Sometimes without even meaning to be. He actually listened when she'd needed to talk, encouraging her to get it out in his own, blunt way. And he actually cared about what she had to say, never dismissing her feelings or her fears. He never made her feel silly or weak when she struggled with her own emotions over everything she was trying to come to terms with about her new reality, her new life. Not to mention he had a brash, handsome bravado to him that never quite failed to make her knees feel just a little weak when he smirked at her. What wasn't to like?

And he seemed to genuinely like her. Possibly even as more than a friend. With the way he was currently looking at her? Well, she could hope, right?

It was then that she felt his lips brush against hers.

At first she wasn't entirely sure it had actually happened. He'd leaned in so quickly that if it weren't for the way his own cheeks pinked or the way his arm had tensed nervously around her shoulders she definitely would've thought she'd imagined it.

She stared at him in surprise for a moment, taking in his pleased smirk and the nervous anticipation in his blue-green eyes. Unconsciously she wet her lips, her breath hitching at the way he seemed to light up hopefully despite trying to hide it at the way her lips tugged into a pleased grin of her own.

Then he leaned in again.

And just as with the first kiss, she barely had time to register the feel of his lips against hers before he was pulling away.

"Pietro," she objected at once, her voice breathless. Concern returned to his eyes. "You're going too fast!" And then confusion had taken hold; she could practically see his mind racing to figure out what she had meant. It was a protest that usually accompanied things far more heated than what he'd tried, after all. He was suddenly looking apprehensive again, worried that he'd overstepped, that he'd misread her reaction. Nina nearly chuckled. It was so rare to see the self-assured speedster so uncertain. It was endearing. But despite her enjoyment, she took pity on him then, smiling widely as she tentatively wound her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer.

"Slower," she chided teasingly before pressing her lips to his, kissing him softly, slowly, savouring the feel of his lips against hers. She felt him smile against her mouth as he caught on, a chuckle of his own rumbling in his chest as his arms curled more securely around her.

And he kissed her slowly back.


	69. Chapter 68

**Barton Home, USA**

**Summer 2015**

Really, Nadine couldn't say she was surprised when, as the Quinjet set down not far from the friendly white farmhouse, there was a familiar figure escorting two smaller figures toward the house. Natasha's quick mental calculations on the Quinjet had been spot on. In fact, Nadine suspected that, had the Barton children taken the bus home as they regularly did, Natasha would've had the extra minutes to make her way to the end of the lane to meet them and Nadine and Wanda would've already been lifting off and on their way back to the Compound. Not that Nadine could really complain; she didn't mind the idea of a quick visit with the archer. After everything that had happened since Prague, Nadine had come to feel a rather comforting kinship with Barton. One that she'd admittedly begun to miss since he'd returned home almost as soon as the Helicarrier had dropped them off at the Compound after Sokovia. Hence her reason for disembarking from the Quinjet with Natasha despite her plans to continue back to the New Avengers Facility.

As soon as they caught sight of their Auntie Nat, Cooper and Lila were immediately racing toward the redhead, swarming her with hugs and excited babbling that Natasha took in stride, her eyes shining happily. Nadine couldn't help but grin at the greeting, exchanging a silent nod with Barton instead of words as he approached himself, knowing full well that his children's happy chattering would drown out anything she tried to say.

Quickly enough, though, Barton and Nat were herding the kids back toward the house, Clint obviously eager to be on his way. Not completely certain of the meaning of the silent exchange between her sister and Clint when she caught sight of Natasha's questioning expression, she had a fairly good guess that it was about why Barton had shown up when he knew Nat was going to be there. Sure enough, as soon as Barton set the kids to their after school routine—or tried to, at least—Natasha was leaning in to ask as much.

"Yeah. Just waiting for now, so the Boss wanted me to make sure the rest of the troops were home safe instead of just standing around and getting on her nerves." Nadine understood at once. Barton had wanted to be the one to tell his kids what was going on and to make sure they got home safe to Natasha before heading back to Laura's side. Having met the Barton matriarch, Nadine couldn't exactly say she was surprised that Laura had insisted as much. Natasha nodded, satisfied that her guess had been correct before Lila was appearing at her side to tug her off to see one thing or another. Neither Barton nor Nadine could hold back their chuckles.

"You sound remarkably composed," she offered lightly as Natasha disappeared further into the house. Barton waved off her teasing yet subtly probing comment.

"Yeah, well, we're old hands at this," he joked lightly back. She wasn't entirely fooled, though. Previous experience or not, he was anxious to make it back to his wife's side. Especially now that he knew his kids were in good hands.

But then he turned to her, his eyes shrewd.

"Not that I don't believe Nat, but you were on an actual mission, weren't you. I interrupted, didn't I." Nadine glanced to him before slowly shaking her head.

"No. Nat was being honest. We were on our way back to base."

"But it was more than just a jaunt over to grab your stuff from your Workshop." There was no denying it. Oh, she could have if she'd really wanted to. She was fairly certain he didn't know her quite well enough yet that he'd be able to pick up on her lie should she choose to answer with one. But as she'd realized more and more frequently over the past couple weeks at the Compound, she didn't feel the need to lie, to play everything she did as close to the chest as she used to. Probably because they all knew she had secrets and seemed content to leave them to her just as she knew they all had secrets of their own. Besides, with Clint just as with Natasha, Nina and even to a lesser extent with Rogers and the other Avengers, she was beginning to find that she didn't want to hide away. Not that she was entirely keen to spill everything just yet. It wasn't that easy an urge to overcome. But Barton? There was a kinship there she couldn't deny. And it quieted the urge to hide away behind her masks and her lies.

"We also had a meeting with an old friend. Just to catch up." She said it as though their tracking down Madame B had been nothing more than a long overdue reunion. In a way it sort was, only far less friendly than the average get-together. Sure enough, Barton seemed to pick up on that despite her casual tone, his expression tightening minutely as he picked up on the reserve in her voice.

"Friend, huh?" Oh yeah, he knew what they'd been up to, details proving unnecessary. Mutely she nodded, her face carefully blank. She wasn't keen on burdening him with what they'd done. Not today, not on what was supposed to be a happy occasion. But then she caught him glancing over toward the Quinjet. Following his gaze, Nadine nearly sighed when she caught sight of Wanda wandering aimlessly through the waist high grass of the field their ride was waiting in.

Before she or Natasha had even asked if she wanted to join them in saying hi to the Bartons, the Sokovian girl had said she would stay on the Quinjet, the shadow in her eyes making it clear she wasn't up to friendly human interaction with anyone else just yet. Obviously the field and the peace it offered had called to the still visibly withdrawn and troubled young woman, though. Yet Nadine couldn't quite help the faint sense of relief she felt at how Wanda's slim frame was beginning to relax as she let her hands brush against the pale green stalks, her face turning toward the bright afternoon sun. An absent hum from Barton had her turning back to him.

Clint nodded toward Wanda where she stood on her own, staring out across the fields surrounding the house.

"Well, whatever it was you were really doing, you sure it was a good idea to bringing her?" Nadine glanced at him. He was watching the girl with undisguised concern. He was fond of her, Nadine realized, a faint smile curling her lips. Protective, even.

"Funny, you sound just like Natasha," she said dryly in response. But after a moment she shrugged, swallowing back a heavy sigh before actually answering his question. "Probably not," she admitted, earning an unimpressed look from the archer. But she could also tell he saw past her comment even before she continued. For one thing, he didn't interrupt. "But she needed a mission to focus on, to 'get her out of her own head' as she put it when Natasha asked her along. Leaving her to stew would've been worse, I think." Reluctantly, he nodded in understanding. Turning away from the girl in the field, Nadine smiled at Clint, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you have somewhere you wanted to be," she teased lightly, changing the subject. Beneath her hand she felt his shoulders tense minutely as the event that had brought the two assassins and the Enhanced Sokovian girl to his home reasserted itself in his thoughts. Nadine chuckled at the mingled panic and exhilaration that flashed across his face at the reminder. Not to mention a faint moue of self-reproach that he'd allowed himself to get so easily distracted. At once he was turning, his thoughts already elsewhere. Only to pause even as he palmed his keys, glancing thoughtfully to Nadine.

"You don't have to run off, you know. You're perfectly welcome to stay. Wanda too. It's doesn't make sense for you to jet off now and come back for Nat, so you might as well stick around and get a good night's sleep. Besides," he glanced in Wanda's direction, "you already know it's a peaceful place. Can't hurt to take advantage, you know? I bet she could use a bit of time alone to get her head back," he finished sincerely. She didn't miss the pointed look he gave her too. Nadine had to admit he was probably right. And honestly? She couldn't say she would mind. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was still shaken from everything that Madame B had said. She definitely knew Natasha was.

"You have a tell." Back on the Quinjet, when they'd still been just under an hour out from the Barton farm, Natasha had turned at Nadine's comment with a quizzical brow quirked. She had just answered Nadine's question on whether or not she was okay with a dismissive 'sure, I'm fine' that was almost,  _almost_ , believable; anyone else would've believed her without question.

"I do? What is it?" Nadine had merely raised a pale eyebrow at Natasha, an impish glint appearing in her eyes even as a wry smile curled her lips.

"Why would I tell?" Nadine had answered with a smirk. "If you knew what it was, you'd fix it. Then where would I be?" Natasha had chuckled at that, easing Nadine's feeling that she was taking what had happened in Paris harder than either of them had expected, but the feeling still hadn't quite gone away. The lingering shadows in her familiar green eyes hadn't eased.

The instant Nadine had snapped Madame B's neck? It had genuinely felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And judging from the small, soft exhale that had come from her sister as their former training mistress' body had fallen limp to the ground?

Natasha had felt exactly the same thing.

She'd been just as shaken by some of the things Madame B had said as Nadine. Natasha had just been much better at hiding it from the former training mistress. But Nadine had been able to tell. She'd especially been able to tell once the older woman was dead. It had bothered Natasha to realize just why she'd been Madame B's favourite. Without Nadya to lean on, she'd turned almost solely to Madame B, and the training mistress had basked in the control she'd had over Nat's already prodigious talents, taking full advantage. Moulding her. Influencing her. That Madame B had seen her as malleable.

Very few recruits had ever earned any measure of special attention from the training mistress and they were always those Madame B had perceived as having the greatest potential. Naturally Natasha had been one, just as Nadya been for a time. Katerina had been another; she'd practically worshipped their supervisor. While attention usually came in the form of higher standards and more daunting challenges, it also brought about the potential for greater rewards and, perhaps most importantly, it brought out a side of Madame B that could've almost been considered 'fond.' It also brought one-on-one mentoring, so-called 'emotional support,' preferential training assignments that were guaranteed to get the attention of the KGB administration, and more. Long before Nadya had made her escape, Natasha had quickly been becoming Madame B's inarguable favourite, even above Katerina and her kindred streak of brutal ruthlessness. And after Nadya had run?

Madame B had continued to mould Natasha into her perfect recruit and Natasha, driven and clever and eager to please as she'd been, had stepped boldly up to the challenge set before her. She'd become the ruthless, effective, inventive, self-assured, self-reliant agent that they'd wanted her to become and more. She'd become utterly lethal and completely capable of switching her emotions—and her conscience—off with an order.

The training mistress and her team had very nearly succeeded in erasing 'Natasha' to leave only the agent they would ultimately grant the highly coveted 'Black Widow' designation to.

She'd become the perfect agent.

But all that she'd known. Natasha had come to terms with it. And after she'd gotten out, S.H.I.E.L.D., Barton and Barton's family had helped her find out just who Natasha Romanoff really was again, and the Avengers had helped her merge her sense of self with a genuine purpose…and a genuine family.

But Nadine was sure it wasn't the reminder of what the Red Room had made her that had shaken her.

It hadn't even been how genuinely proud Madame B had been. Or how pleased the older woman had asserted she'd been with Natasha's work once she'd Graduated. Or how genuinely disappointed she'd been when S.H.I.E.L.D. had snatched her up from the KGB before Madame B had been able to convince her supervisors to properly induct Natasha into HYDRA…or how they'd denied her the opportunity to make the offer personally once they'd finally agreed; obviously, whomever they had sent had failed.

"Had it been Madame B who approached me? I don't know, Nadya. I might have said yes," Natasha had admitted bluntly with an absent shrug before they'd even left Paris. "If she had asked before Clint had got to me? Maybe even after. I suppose we'll never know." But even that hadn't been what had truly shaken the redhead.

No, it was learning that, even after all these years and Natasha throwing in against HYDRA, Madame B still seemed genuinely fond of the redhead that was getting under her normally thick skin.

As was realizing that part of her still craved the woman's approval.

And given how proud Natasha was about building up the strength of her own character in the years since? About how resistant she had become to such things? How resistant she'd always believed she'd been? It smarted. Badly. It was all painfully clear in how hard her sister worked to deflect any attempt of Nadine's to even allude to the topic.

But she hid it well. And being around Barton's two kids was doing a great deal to help her move past it. By the time dinner had been devoured—a rather tasty mac and cheese dish Natasha made that Lila and Cooper adored—homework done, night-time routines completed and the two Barton kids reluctantly retreating to their beds, Natasha and Nadine were both pleasantly worn from the time spent with the two excited children.

Even Wanda had been coaxed inside for a time, Lila latching onto the older girl and telling her excitedly about their new baby brother who was quite possibly arriving any time almost non-stop through dinner. And the Sokovian had endured with good humour, seeming to genuinely enjoy the little girl's chatter. It was yet another sign Nadine was taking that Wanda was going to be alright. And even though she had once again retreated outside, this time to one of the chairs on the porch just on the other side of the living room window, Nadine could easily tell that Wanda's was already in a much better place emotionally than she had been when they'd arrived at the farm.

Yes. Staying had been a good idea, Nadine decided.

As Nadine turned her attention back to the tablet in her hands, she caught sight of Natasha glancing to her from the chair next to the fireplace just as she'd been looking to Wanda. She shot her little sister a faint grin.

"You don't have to check up on me like that,  _lisichka_ ," she chided lightly.

Natasha had merely shrugged at Nadine's offhanded comment.

"It's been a long day." She looked to Wanda then herself, absently nodding toward the girl where she sat curled up in a green and brown plaid blanket on the other side of the glass; she looked like she had dozed off out there, listing to one side with her head resting haphazardly on her propped arm, "and not just for her." Nadine made an absent noise of agreement as she resumed her work. Natasha looked back to the blonde assassin before sighing heavily.

"I still can't decide if it was a good idea bringing her into this." Nadine looked up again, meeting her sister's troubled gaze before glancing back to Wanda again. It wasn't the first time Natasha had said as much. Nadine hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Clint he'd only been repeating Natasha's concern.

"She needed it," Nadine said softly, not for the first time either. "She needed to feel needed, and she needed to feel in control again. She needed to  _do_  something. She needed to focus on something other than her own mistakes. And…and she needed to be reminded that she is not a bad person."

"I know," Natasha agreed softly, her suddenly tired voice nevertheless threaded with a trace of reluctance. But then she fixed a searching gaze on Nadine. "One thing I can't understand, though, is why you didn't suggest we bring Nina along too." Nadine could feel her gaze turn cool, fighting it off before she let herself look to her little sister.

"Because she's still healing." Natasha didn't drop her intent scrutiny.

"Emotionally, yeah…just like Wanda. But if this could help Wanda, why wouldn't it have helped Nina too? After all, everything we were after today? It affected her almost as much as it did us. Maybe even more so."

"Bringing her would have set her on a path she couldn't come back from," Nadine said quietly, her voice growing cool as she grew defensive. "I'm trying to keep her safe from this kind of life." It was a lie—wishful thinking at best—and they both knew it.

"The way we just kept Wanda safe from it?"

"Can you deny that Wanda's already part of it?" She could tell Natasha wanted to contradict, but that she reconsidered arguing. Tempers were short enough as it was despite the reprieve they'd taken and they were both acutely aware of it. Still, the redhead couldn't entirely hold back.

Natasha fixed Nadine with a knowing look. "And Nina's not? You've effectively been training Nina as a spy, Nadya. And that's not even counting everything that's happened the last couple weeks." Nadine jolted, gaze snapping to Natasha with an affronted look, eyes wide. The uncertainty in her gut was fanned to life again, taunting her with her private resolve to start genuinely training Nina to survive in their world.

And preparing her to finally hear the whole of Nadine's secrets.

But to hear Natasha say she had already been doing so? The fluttering unease began to knot uncomfortably in her stomach.

"I have not!" Natasha raised a skeptical eyebrow at Nadine's denial.

"Nadine…she was raised in Austria—speaking German—by a Russian spy mother—learning to speak Russian and English—and yet she doesn't have a trace of an accent with any of them? Well, she does when she's scared or angry or—"

"Multilingualism is an invaluable life skill," Nadine interrupted defensively, "It's not just a skill for spies, Nat."

"You taught her how to fight. A healthy variety of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat skills—"

"I taught her how to defend herself. Something she needed, as it turns out. There were people out there after me, Nat! People hunting me, who hunted her,  _hurt her_ , because of her connection to me!" But Natasha didn't even falter at Nadine's protests.

"—how to think quickly, strategically, even tactically. I know you know about how she helped Steve out of a tight spot and how she evaded a sentry by leading it straight for him; I know he told you about that. She has a workable knowledge of electronics and their construction; I learned that in Sokovia, and she told me the other day that she'd been considering going into computer engineering after high school. That she actually applied to MIT for it? She has to be good since she genuinely believes she has a chance. What else have you taught her on the sly? How to hack, obviously; goes with the computer sciences territory. Codebreaking would go along with that easily. What about how to see through and withstand interrogation tricks? How to interrogate even? How to manipulate? How to hide, to disappear? To infiltrate? I bet she's been playing our old Red Room childhood memory, logic and observation games since she was a baby.

"And don't tell me; at the very least, you have to have taught her how to shoot." Nadine didn't have a rebuttal. Though not about everything she'd listed, Natasha was, to some extent, right. And she knew it.

"See! You are," Natasha practically crowed. Nadine scowled at her sister. But she couldn't entirely deny it. In some ways—many ways, if she was being honest—she had been. Only she'd been convincing herself that they were skills that would help Nina protect herself or help her make a life for herself one day. On one hand, they were. On the other…

"Well it wasn't exactly intentional, Natasha! It's what I know!" The redhead sobered, then. After a moment, she stood, coming around the coffee table to sink onto the couch next to Nadine and wrapping her arms around her sister's tense shoulders. At the contact, Nadine begrudgingly began to relax, her anxiety-driven temper cooling.

"I think, whether you like it or not, Nadya, Nina  _is_  a part of this world. She was born into it." A shuddering breath escaped Nadine. But she couldn't bring herself to contradict the redhead, no matter how much she believed Nina was too good, too  _innocent_  for their world.

Not when she knew her sister was at least partially right.

She had just been hoping she could put off admitting it for a little while longer.


	70. Chapter 69

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Summer 2015**

Just as his mother predicted, little Nathaniel Pietro Barton arrived relatively quickly, allowing his siblings' impromptu babysitters to go on their way the next morning as soon as Clint picked them up to go meet and collect their new baby brother. Provided, of course, that they promised to return with the Enhanced boy who had lent the new arrival his middle name and the younger blonde who his parents hoped would agree to be his godmother along with the boy's twin; it was his parents' way of saying thank you to Nina and Pietro for the lengths they went to to save Clint and to Wanda for having Clint's back in Sokovia.

It was a promise made easily enough.

And then, despite the redheaded assassin's obvious temptation to stick around to welcome the new arrival home, the three women were on their way back to the Compound. They all knew the Barton family deserved the time alone with their newest addition regardless of how the Barton parents likely would have insisted the visitors were welcome, insisting that Natasha at the very least was as good as family herself.

But Natasha had been just as insistent that they leave the family to themselves, that they shouldn't intrude. And Nadine could understand that perfectly. Given the line of work the archer had been in? Nadine figured Clint had missed enough precious moments with his family over the years and she suspected that was what Natasha had been thinking as well. So they would meet little Nathaniel in person next time. Natasha had already promised to visit again on her own in the next couple days. Little Nate just had to meet his namesake, after all.

And Nadine was alright with that. She already felt like she had intruded enough despite Barton himself assuring her that he saw her as family just as he considered Nat to be. "You're Nat's sister," he'd pointed out with a shrug. "That makes you family in my book." Nadine hadn't known what to say, a trembling, warm feeling swelling deep in her chest. She wasn't actually sure she'd ever actually felt  _wanted_  somewhere the way she had when Clint had said that.

It was only a short hop from the Barton farm to Stark's new Compound, and Nadine was grateful for that. As pleasant as the reprieve at the Barton farm had been yet again, she was eager to get back, to see Nina. To reassure herself that her daughter was still fine. An irrational impulse to be sure, given that she rationally knew there was nowhere safer that her daughter could be. But after everything that had happened? After some of the things Madame B had said? After some of the things she and Natasha had talked about? She couldn't help it.

Especially since things were still tense between her and Nina. They were better than they had been, certainly. The talk they'd had, where Nadine had revealed everything she'd dared to her daughter had done a great deal to clear the air between them even if Nina had all but refused to speak to her for over a week afterward. But then she had started talking to her again and Nadine allowed herself to hope that they could begin repairing their relationship. There was still a great deal they needed to discuss—future plans and living arrangements among other things—but there was no real urgency there. No, things were starting to get back on track.

At least, until Nadine, Natasha and Wanda had left on their mission. Nina hadn't been happy about that. The flicker of fear Nadine had seen in her daughter's eyes when she'd told Nina they would be gone for a few days had cut her to the core. The last time Nadine had left on a mission, Nina had been kidnapped, and consciously or not, a part of Nina had panicked as a result when Nadine had told her she was leaving on a new mission.

"But you said you were done as the Ghost," she'd said, her voice sharp with confusion and a thread that sounded painfully close to betrayal. It was only thanks to her training that Nadine hadn't flinched in response.

"This isn't that," Nadine had reassured her as gently as she could. "This is a mission to…to tie up loose ends. To help leave that part of my life behind." Nina hadn't looked convinced, especially when Nadine hadn't explained further, and had stood stiff and tense as Nadine embraced her before parting. It left Nadine feeling uneasy about the reception she was going to get. For all that Nina was far more compassionate, carefree and forgiving than Nadine was—not surprising since such traits had been all but suppressed or trained out of the blonde assassin early in her life before Nina's presence had let her find some measure of such feelings again—she was very much Nadine's daughter and could be just as stubborn and guarded as Nadine. Especially when she was hurting. And Nina was certainly hurting.

Almost before she knew it, Natasha was settling the Quinjet on its landing pad and the three women were making their way down the boarding ramp.

Only for a gentle touch on her arm to stop Nadine in her tracks just shy of entering the main building in the Compound.

"Mm. Ryker?" Nadine turned to meet Wanda's nervous but intent gaze. There was a healthy amount of respect there as well, and a clear flicker of gratitude. "I—thank you, for bringing me along," she finally managed to say after a moment's hesitation. "You and Romanoff were right. I needed it." Nadine smiled reassuringly at the Sokovian girl, simply nodding her acknowledgement.

It was the only acknowledgement the girl wanted.

But Nadine had a question of her own, one borne out of her own lingering reservations about including Wanda on her and Natasha's mission despite her conviction that the benefits outweighed the drawbacks. For all of them.

Not to mention she seemed to be developing a bit of a soft spot for Wanda.

"And you can live with what you did? With what you helped us to do?" Wanda's gaze grew veiled at Nadine's question. But after a moment she began to speak, her voice soft and haunted at first.

"I—I saw, in your head, the things that happened in that place. Where you grew up. I saw her, and the things she did. The—the orders she gave. And then…when she appeared in that alley? When she heard your voice? It brought her memories of you to the front of her mind. I saw…I saw the things she did in that place and I felt the—" Wanda faltered, her face crumpling with revulsion and dismay. But she managed to regain her composure, though her voice grew clipped as anger threaded her tone. "She was proud of the things she did there. She—she enjoyed what she did, and she took satisfaction, pleasure even, in tormenting you." She made a dissatisfied sound then, as though unhappy with how she was explaining herself. Nadine, though, understood completely.

Part of her wanted to stop the girl then, having already heard enough to set her stomach churning and her own memories of the woman and the place she oversaw pressing ruthlessly against her thoughts. It was hard enough keeping them at bay despite the closure of killing her thanks to simply having been in Madame B's presence again after so many years, having to dredge up thoughts about that horrible time of her life.

But she didn't speak, letting Wanda get her thoughts in order when she paused despite the perfect opportunity. Whatever she had learned and seen in Madame B's head was undoubtedly toxic, so she easily imagined the girl would need to get this out, to share it, to get it off her chest. Who better to listen and understand than someone who had been there? Someone who knew intimately who Madame B had been.

Besides, she was beginning to grow rather fond of the girl, if she was being honest. It felt like the least she could do, given what Wanda had done for her and Natasha. And Nina. Wanda had more than proven herself capable and worthy of a measure of trust in Paris. So Nadine listened, no matter how painful it was to hear, no matter the memories and feelings it brought back. Wanda's gaze dropped to her tightly clasped hands, her rings noticeably digging into the flesh of her fingers.

"It was a game to her. Tearing you, the others, apart and putting them back together. Discarding the ones who didn't fit her vision. She genuinely believed it made those of you who survived stronger. And she—she regretted being unable to get through to you and…and when that didn't work, get rid of you. She also…

"…she wondered if Nina would've survived her program."

It felt like the very blood in Nadine's veins froze with a mix of terror and fury. She'd wondered given the gleam that had appeared in the training mistress' eye whenever she spoke about Nina, but Madame B had never said a word to confirm Nadine's suspicions. To hear that those suspicions had been right?

But she didn't allow her reaction to show, maintaining her relaxed posture and enforcing her features against betraying her feelings. Wanda still picked up on it though, no doubt sensing Nadine's reaction thanks to her powers. The Sokovian girl winced, her gaze sliding anxiously away from Nadine to focus beyond her to the door of the Compound, not quite seeing it as she continued, reluctant but unable to stop speaking now that she'd let herself start.

"She was…angry, still angry that she hadn't been authorized to take Nina for her program. She argued that it would be an incentive for you if they had her but her bosses rejected that idea. They needed you and your cooperation more, and they argued that putting Nina in the program would turn you against them." She hazarded a grave glance to Nadine then, looking vaguely ill before her eyes slid away again, this time to focus somewhere deep in her own thoughts, on her memories of what she'd seen in Madame B's head. "But her bosses said if you  _had_  challenged them? They would've authorised it without a second thought." She met Nadine's eye then, and there was no remorse. No guilt. Wanda's reaction to Nadine's comment on hunting down anyone who might know of her secrets and Nina's suddenly made sense. Seeing inside Madame B's head had woken Wanda's instincts to protect those she cared about, and she cared about Nina.

"So do I regret helping you rid the world of that woman?" Her chin lifted fractionally. "No. I don't."

There was nothing more to say after that. Wanda had said what she'd needed to. But Nadine wasn't entirely sure if hearing any of it had helped ease the doubts shadowing her conviction that Wanda had benefitted by coming along. Especially considering how morally grey what she'd done for them had been.

Yet all thought on that topic fled as she turned to corner to see Nina waiting in the Avengers' common area. Wanda, having reached the bright, open room first, was already embracing her brother, silently assuring him that she was fine. Unsurprisingly, Natasha had disappeared further into the base already, likely for some much needed time alone.

But as much as Nadine was ready for some true solitude of her own, there was something she needed more.

And she was standing right in front of her.

It was a moment of truth. The moment Nadine couldn't help but feel would tell her if there was hope that the damage she'd caused to her relationship with her daughter could be repaired. If there was hope that Nina was ready to begin truly fixing things between them. She held her breath, not even realizing she was doing so as she and Nina looked across the short distance that lay between them.

And then the veiled, wary look on her daughter's face melted away and Nina stepped forward into Nadine's embrace. She could breathe again.

"Hello,  _solnyshko_ ," she murmured into Nina's pale hair. Nina answered by hugging her tighter. After a long, heartening moment, Nina pulled back to look up at Nadine, her features turning guarded again, a question appearing in her eyes even as she opened her mouth to ask it.

"Where—where did you go?" Nadine could feel her emotions beginning to instinctively switch off, though a potent feeling of satisfaction lingered as what had happened in Paris was brought to mind. But the instinct to keep it from Nina was strangely subdued. It was still there, and likely always would be, but it was like a part of her had come to realize with Natasha's comments that her daughter had more than proven that she was strong enough to handle hearing about Nadine's darker side. Not all of it, of course. But some. Just as coming face to face with Madame B again had driven home just how toxic secrets could be.

"Natasha and I had some business with our old supervisor—the woman who was in charge of our training when we were…children." Nina's eyes widened fractionally, though whether it was from what Nadine had said or how she had said it she wasn't certain. It may even have been out of surprise that Nadine had answered her so directly at all. But then Nina's expression dimmed.

"And you took Wanda?" Something in Nadine's breast panged sorrowfully at the almost disappointed way Nina said it. Not to mention the way jealousy flickered in her large eyes as she stole a glance in Wanda's direction. Nadine sighed.

"We needed her talents," she explained gently, "it made things go much…quicker,"  _and far less messily_ , her thoughts supplied silently. "If we hadn't needed her, we wouldn't have brought her, whether she needed it or not." She didn't make excuses for why she hadn't brought Nina along, which she suspected lay at the heart of Nina's question. They would've sounded hollow and Nina would've seen through it in a heartbeat. So Nadine said nothing on that score. After a moment, Nina nodded slowly, begrudging understanding appearing on her face. But then her gaze sharpened as she looked back up to Nadine.

"Did you kill her?" Part of Nadine flinched internally at how coolly serious the question was. Nina was not afraid of the answer. She wanted to know…even  _needed_  to. But another part of Nadine was proud.

How was she supposed to feel about that?

Her face cool and blank, Nadine answered. "Yes."

Nina nodded absently, a glimmer of satisfaction surfacing in her blue-grey eyes.

"Good." And with a faint, almost smile and a quick, squeezing hug, Nina retreated to the Twins' sides. Nadine couldn't help but frown, her heart constricting slightly as she caught sight of her daughter threading her fingers with Pietro's as she drew back from hugging Wanda tightly.

Well, that was new.

She'd noticed both the Twins relied heavily on physical contact for reassurance, especially after Sokovia, and she'd noticed Nina had been included in that impulse more and more as the days and weeks began to pass. But the particular way they were holding hands? She couldn't help but take it as evidence that something had changed between her daughter and the Sokovian boy. Either that, or Nadine was just being overprotective and paranoid. It was part of it, to be sure, but she'd had too much training to simply disregard such a telling bit of behaviour because she didn't like what it might mean.

Even if it didn't mean what she suspected it did, though, it was something that certainly warranted further observation, that was for sure.

But her thoughts were interrupted before she could muse on it further…or before her protective maternal instincts could kick in and she started grilling the Sokovian boy about his intentions; she didn't even know for sure if he  _had_  intentions, yet…

"So who were you hunting?" Nadine's expression instantly and instinctively closed off as she turned to look up at Steve where he'd come to stand next to her. Despite that, her eyes still widened in surprise anyway. He chuckled, giving her a look that clearly asked if she thought he wouldn't figure it out. Bewilderingly, she nearly flushed at the amused gleam in his ocean-hued eyes as he took in her reaction.

Well that was unexpected.

"C'mon, Ryker," he said, his tone faintly teasing as he grinned, "I know what Nat gets like when she's hunting. And you two have a lot more in common than I think you realize." Nadine blinked at the observation before letting out a small huff of half-hearted indignation. She nodded, confirming his guess. Satisfied, Steve crossed his arms loosely across his chest as he looked at her, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. Nadine nearly scoffed at the obvious expectation, crossing her own arms and countering his expression with an eyebrow raised in challenge. He nearly laughed, his eyes smiling even as he barely prevented his lips from doing so. A flicker of warmth fluttered deep in her chest at look. Where had this come from? She knew the tentative friendly relationship they'd been working toward had slowly been growing since their post-Sokovia truce, but this ease around her? It was almost like…like he'd genuinely made an effort to move past what she'd done. Like he'd accepted her.

Dare she even think it, but she liked the feeling. A lot.

And she liked seeing him smile. She very nearly smiled back.

"So," he finally prompted, "who were you after?" There was something in his voice that immediately had Nadine sobering. It was wary yet…hopeful. It didn't take a genius to guess just what he was hoping. Her arms tightened around her torso against a sting of guilt that she couldn't give him the answer he wanted.

"It wasn't Barnes," she said softly, suddenly hating how the light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly. "It was—it was our old training mistress we were after." It was a split-second decision to share who they'd been after. As soon as the words left her lips, though, she was rationalizing that Natasha was likely going to tell him anyway. Not that that was all of it, but she wasn't ready to examine that just yet. She was still getting used to the idea that he didn't seem to hate her.

Steve frowned, his manner shifting minutely as he picked up on the change in her voice.

"Your training mistress? From the, what was it called, the Red Room?" The look Nadine fixed him with was cold and nearly feral.

"Madame B; it's because of her that Natasha and I are what we are…" she hesitated, the shard of disgust and anger she'd held onto since her days in the Red Room flaring. His head tilted faintly in thought even as a trace of anger grew to shadow his features as he realized what she was talking about; so Natasha really had told him more of the Red Room. She met his eye without a trace of warmth or remorse in her own gaze. "She was the one who gave me the order to 'maintain'  _him_ ," she finally said impassively, her voice low, icy and dangerous. His brow furrowed further, the Captain not understanding at first. But then it clicked. She knew the instant he understood what she meant.

It was moments like that, when Steve's eyes went hard and his expression grim that it became incredibly clear that he was a soldier above all else. He knew that sometimes it was necessary to be brutally ruthless no matter how much one wished otherwise, and that mercy was sometimes a luxury that couldn't be afforded. That he had made calls like that and could live with them.

"And you took care of her?" It was asked softly, his voice suddenly sounding nearly as merciless as hers. She suspected he already knew what her answer was going to be, but she confirmed it anyway.

"I snapped her neck," she said without hesitation. Steve started, his eyebrows rising in surprise. He'd expected her to be oblique about it, alluding to the deed only if she actually said anything at all in confirmation. He hadn't expected her to answer him so bluntly. But neither was there any doubt that he was satisfied by the answer even if there was a trace of reservation in his eyes. She didn't expect anything less. He might be a soldier through and through, prepared to make the hard calls, but the Captain was also noble to the core and unmistakably compassionate. He did not relish in the thought of killing even though he knew it was often a necessary evil in their line of work. Even when it was the only true justice the truly villainous deserved and the only true way to stop many of them.

It left her with a slight pang that maybe she should feel even a sliver of remorse over taking a life so blithely. But she couldn't do it. Not over this death. Besides, it was what she was made to do. She had long ago been taught that to feel remorse was a weakness, and so she had learned to bury it away so deep that she couldn't feel it anymore. Not that she was often entirely successful. Not since  _him_. Not since Nina began to wake parts of her she'd believed the Red Room had destroyed; compassionate parts, selfless ones. But when it came to her work as The Ghost? To the lengths she'd go to to protect her daughter?

She wouldn't lose a minute's sleep over taking a life.

More than that, part of her knew that, were she to open that particular door—remorse, sympathy, regret—she would drown in an ocean of blood, dragged down by the weight of the things she had done.

So she met his regard head on, not flinching away despite suspecting he likely didn't wholly approve of her and Natasha taking justice into their own hands, even knowing as he had to that it had been the right call. Despite his own evident desire for vengeance on his best friend's behalf.

"She knew about Nina?" She nearly started at the question, not expecting it at all. Before she could even think to react, she was nodding slowly, rage once again threatening to overwhelm her. "With this woman gone…" He trailed off, but she knew exactly what he was asking.

"It's not quite over," Nadine murmured, suddenly feeling tired. She wanted it to be. Desperately. He studied her for a moment, taking in the set of her features, reading what he could from her posture and her body language. But then a faint, wan grin tugged at his mouth, conviction lighting in his eyes. Despite her best efforts and all her training, her impassive mask cracked with astonishment when he continued.

"Then you do what you've gotta do."

Nadine could only nod.

They both knew what she needed to do. And they both knew Nadine wouldn't hesitate.

It seemed The Ghost had some more hunting to do.


	71. Chapter 70

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Summer 2015**

"So how are they doing?"

Natasha looked up to Steve as he settled across from her, coffee in hand. She didn't even have to look up to know just whom his question was about, but she followed his gaze anyway.

The Twins and Nina had claimed the red couches again, the set having become first 'Nina's' then 'theirs' over the last couple weeks. Natasha couldn't help but grin at the smiles and poorly stifled laughter that couldn't quite cover the faint, unintelligible sounds coming from the tablet being passed between them. They'd been like that for most of the afternoon, having retreated to their corner of the Common Area—Nina having taken it upon herself to acquaint the Twins with some of the more entertaining videos available online that they had missed—after each of their check-ins with the collection of doctors at the Compound. They were all healing well, though Natasha suspected that wasn't what Steve had been getting at.

"Good," she answered, looking back to the Captain with an indulgent smile before dropping her attention back to the tablet in her hand. "Pietro's back to fighting fit, according to Cho, though she'd still like him to take it easy for a few more days until she can be completely sure the cradle tissue will hold up against his Enhancement; she's sticking around to monitor, of course. He worked with her for a bit this morning and she sounds very pleased with the results so far." Steve nodded along as she spoke, still watching the youngsters in question as he sipped his coffee.

"And Wanda," he prompted when she'd fallen silent. Natasha bit back a sigh as he leaned forward to set his cup on the table, clasping his hands loosely in front of him as his forearms rested on his knees. She laid her tablet down on the couch next to her, looking back over to the Twins herself.

"Wanda is…she's doing better," she admitted, knowing her relief would be clear in her voice. Steve let out a low breath, indicating his own relief at the good news. And it was. "I wasn't sure at the time, but Paris was good for her. She still won't talk to the therapist Tony brought in for them, but she seems to be talking with Pietro and Nina at least, so that's something. And of course, Pietro's following her lead there. He's only shown up to a single session, but he seems to have opened up to the girls as far as I can tell. Not to mention he seems to be coping with everything better than his sister."

"But they're both talking," Steve confirmed. Natasha nodded. While she couldn't be entirely sure, just from observing the three youngsters together and from the odd bit of conversation she'd overheard, she was fairly sure a good portion of their time together had effectively become makeshift therapy sessions. Most of it was simply them spending time together, beginning to laugh and smile and relax again. Not to mention the odd bit of innocent, free-spirited rebellion; it was an open secret that the three of them had snuck out of the Compound the week before for a much needed afternoon away from everything. According to Nadine, the afternoon of teenaged freedom, a movie and some wandering around the nearest mall had done wonders for the trio, the change in them visible almost the moment they'd left the bounds of the base. If that wasn't an indicator of a return to normalcy, she wasn't sure what was. But some of their time together looked to be more serious in nature than lazy afternoons or jaunts out warranted, with them each appearing to share and talk over everything that had happened in Sokovia. She'd overheard Pietro talking about it in the Infirmary, and she was fairly certain she'd heard Nina talking about her kidnapping. She'd only seen Wanda speaking to the other two from a distance, but there had been something in her posture that had spoken to the Sokovian girl unburdening herself, so Natasha was optimistic.

While not professional therapy by any means, it was still far better than nothing, and Natasha could see all three of them were benefitting. Wanda was slowly beginning to come alive again, while Pietro—arguably the one coping best despite being the one who'd come closest to dying—was effectively back to his old self best as Natasha could tell. He seemed to be one of those lucky people who didn't dwell, who just needed to confront their feelings, maybe talk it out a bit, and that was that.

It made Natasha a little jealous, actually. She could bury away her issues and traumas with the best, but moving past them, accepting and healing from them was a little more elusive. Wanda was like her in that, as was Nadine. It just took time. Time and the help and listening ears and sturdy shoulders of people they trusted.

But even then, sometimes it just didn't go away. They just had to learn to live with their ghosts.

Well, the Twins and Nina had no shortage of support, that was for sure.

On the other side of the coffee table, Steve shifted, glancing back toward the softly laughing trio across the way. God, in moments like this, it really showed just how young they all really were. The laughter and smiles made it easy to forget that each one of them had their adolescence cut short, all three bearing the weight of their experiences in their eyes. Especially the Twins.

Except during moments like this. Natasha smiled. Moments where they looked nearly like the carefree teenagers they should be again. Steve looked back to Natasha.

"And Nina?" he asked, sounding nearly tentative for all the fondness in his voice. Natasha nearly shook her head with fondness of her own. He'd gotten better at keeping his reactions and emotions to himself in the time that she'd known him, but sometimes he was still an open book.

"She's doing better too," she assured him. "She seems to be recovering well enough. She's talking to the Twins—if anything, helping them open up seems to be helping her too." The relief that came over Steve nearly set Natasha grinning like a fool. "And she's talking to Nadine again, which is a good sign." Just as with Wanda, there was no hiding her relief as she gave her answer. She had honestly been starting to worry as the distance between mother and daughter had persisted. Yet, as always, time had done its thing and Nina had started to reach back when her mother reached out. But then, from what little Natasha had seen, her niece was far too compassionate to hold a grudge for long. It was only the early days of true reconciliation, of course, but it was encouraging regardless.

Across from her, Steve shifted in his seat, only this time, instead of an unconscious cue that his mind was switching tracks, it looked more like fidgeting. Natasha's attention was suddenly zeroing in on the Captain, her shrewd eyes taking in everything they could read off her friend.

It was Nadine. The mention of her sister was what had gotten his reaction. She wasn't even sure if it was a conscious action or not. But there was…something there. But what? Natasha couldn't be sure—she didn't have enough intel—but a little part of her was suddenly growing hopeful again. It reminded her of his behaviour  _before_  the disastrous Quinjet ride, when she'd been sure that he had…but she couldn't be sure. Not at this point in time. More observation, study and analysis would certainly be needed before she could confirm her suspicions—hopes, even—but that would be right up Nat's ally. And she wasn't averse to using her hard-learned skills for more pleasant pursuits.

She changed the subject, though. Much as she wanted to keep poking until she learned what she wanted to know, she knew that wouldn't be wise or productive. It was too early for that.

"I think Nina will be open to our proposal, though," she said instead. Steve nodded, satisfied by her assessment as he leaned back in his seat.

"I hoped so." He looked to Natasha. "And did you get a chance to talk to the Twins about it?" Natasha nodded, reaching forward to retrieve her own mug, clasping it loosely as her hands soaked up what little warmth remained; her tea was just on the warm side of lukewarm.

"Pietro didn't even hesitate," she said with a nearly exasperated grin. "He loves the idea of showing off and stretching his powers just as it interests him to potentially join the Avengers." She shrugged then, meeting Steve's eye. "But then, the reason the two of them signed up for Strucker's experiments was because of their desire to fight for the underdogs, to avenge the wrongs they saw in their country. And to right the wrongs done to them," she ceded wryly at a questioning look from Steve, "but that was only part of it." A grin tugged at Steve's lips at the comment that Natasha was soon matching. "Not to mention that he'd just love the chance to play with the big boys, now that he's proven he can keep up. I think he's pretty sure he can outshine us too," she added with a mischievous smile of her own. Steve chuckled.

"I can't say that surprises me," he said. "So he'll sign up for the chance to do what they'd always planned on doing—just on a larger scale—and for the excitement," he summarized with an amused grin tugging at his own lips. Nat nodded.

"And the ego-stroking that would come with being able to keep up with 'The Avengers,'" she tacked, air-quotes implied in her playfully dramatic tone. But then her mood grew serious again. "But Wanda…" Steve too sobered as Natasha brought up the Maximoff sister. Natasha spared a glance at the young brunette herself. "Wanda is a little more…well, she's more cautious and certainly more pragmatic than her brother. Especially after Sokovia. Where Pietro thinks it'll be exciting to be an Avenger, she's a little more hesitant about the idea. But she is willing to give training a try," Natasha concluded. Steve nodded thoughtfully.

"What about Nina," he asked after a moment. "Have you spoken to Nadine yet?" There it was again. If it wasn't for all her training, Natasha would've narrowed her eyes at the Captain then, trying to discern precisely what she was picking up on from him given that she couldn't quite get a good read on him. But she easily kept her interest carefully hidden. She just shook her head instead.

"Not yet."

"How do you think she'll take it? You think she'll go for it?"

Natasha shrugged, sighing lightly. "I think so," she said. "I'm pretty sure I made some headway in getting her to see Nina's not as ill-equipped for our world as she fears, so there's that going for us. She might not be thrilled by the idea of Nina training to be an Avenger after trying to keep her away from this life for so long, but she'll see the benefits. Especially given everything Nina's already been put through. And I think the fact that I'll be the main one working with the three of them won't hurt either."

"But she wouldn't be training as an Avenger, though," he pointed out with a frown. "You were pretty clear on that. She'd just be working with the Twins without actually being a probationary Avenger." He fixed Natasha with a searching look, causing her to chuckle.

"I know," she assured him with an absent gesture, "it was my idea, after all. For Nadine to go along with it, that particular distinction is going to help." Steve smiled lightly, though he didn't look entirely convinced. But he trusted her judgement, so he shook it off, pressing on with the line of thought he was on.

"And what about Nadine?" he asked with a tone that was perhaps just a touch too casual. Natasha replaced her mug on the table, careful not to meet Steve's eye until she was sure her expression was fixed precisely how she wanted it.

"What about her?" she answered, looking up to meet his gaze head on. It was asked with just the right level of suitable yet casual curiosity. Steve shifted again, the barest of shrugs lifting his shoulders.

"Do you think she'll agree to stick around? You sounded pretty convinced that you could get her in on helping us with training." Natasha eyed him thoughtfully. He sounded…concerned that she wouldn't be able to manage it.

Natasha wasn't concerned. Not about her ability to bring Nadine around, at least.

But his line of questioning, on the other hand…that was decidedly odd. Not the questions themselves, mind; they were perfectly reasonable. It was that he'd asked them at all. Again.

He'd already asked the same questions, back when the two of them had been contemplating the idea of Nina joining the Twins in their training. Normally, for Steve, Natasha's assurances that day would've been enough. He would've been satisfied by her assessment and left her to the agreed upon plan, trusting her to update him when she had results one way or the other. But this asking again… Decidedly odd.

"I think she'll come around," she finally answered. Steve grew thoughtful, though a handful of additional feelings began to flicker across his features. Natasha couldn't quite pick them all out, but she got a fairly good idea.

Her suspicions might just have some merit to them after all; he liked the idea of Nadine sticking around. And there was the chance he knew it too. Natasha only barely restrained her vindicated grin. So she had been reading things right back at the farm…

As she watched him without making it obvious she was doing so, Steve's brow furrowed, his attention turning once again to the trio curled up on the red couches. Curious, Natasha was turning too, finally catching the strain of music coming from across the room that had drawn the preoccupied frown to Steve's face.

Whatever they were watching, the Twins were enraptured. A wide, wicked grin was spreading across Pietro's face while Wanda's eyes were sparkling with mirth and barely contained tears of laughter. Nina's face, meanwhile was beginning to turn red, she was working so hard to restrain herself from bursting into peals of laughter. She was obviously trying not to interrupt what was playing on the tablet she had propped in front of the Twins. She'd seen whatever they were watching before, Natasha concluded, given how Nina seemed far more interested in the Twins' reactions than what was playing on the screen.

"I know that song," Steve murmured, his voice distant as he tried to pinpoint how. Natasha spared him a curious glance, her own brow furrowing. But her own curiosity got the better of her, and she turned back to Nina and the Twins.

"What are you three giggling at over there," she called across the room, causing all three heads to snap over to her. Only for their gazes to slide past her to latch onto Steve the instant they noticed he was in the room. Oh, that was interesting. Natasha was certainly intrigued now. Especially at the mischievous glints that appeared in all three sets of eyes.

Nina opened her mouth to answer, only for a stream of giggles to escape first. Despite her own laugher nearly escaping, Wanda hissed out a half-hearted admonishment, and Nina forced her obvious enjoyment back under control.

"Just watching some U.S. Department of Education videos, Nat. We didn't get them in school across the way, but they made it online and went viral. Even in Austria." Natasha's frown deepened even as a grin spread across her face. Especially when she caught Steve straightening out of the corner of her eye.

Sparing him another glance, she nearly started giggling herself at the wary expression that had appeared on the Captain's face.

"Let me guess," he spoke up dryly, "PSAs about things like 'Safety First,' 'Patience' and 'Respectful Language.'" Pietro barked out a laugh and the girls devolved into giggles again. Natasha was incredulous, watching Steve now with barely concealed amusement.

"The detention one just might be my favourite," Nina piped up, "though the 'Fitness Challenge' and 'Food for Thought' are pretty funny too."

"Brain Power," Wanda objected with a wide smile, only to be interrupted by Pietro before she could make her argument.

"No, no, 'Your Changing Body' is definitely the best." A dull flush had begun to creep up the back of Steve's neck, and the Captain was trying very, very hard to keep a straight face even as the three youngsters burst out laughing again.

"We're not going to have to make any of these ridiculous, corny things if we become Avengers, are we?" Wanda's tone had grown serious, if a little appalled, but there was a glint in her eye that was eerily similar to her twin's when he was on the verge of doing something reckless. Natasha glanced between them and Steve.

Then her memory twigged.

"Wait, are these those goofy school videos that the DoE asked you to make a couple years ago? After New York?" Sighing with good-natured exasperation, Steve nodded in answer to Natasha's question before elaborating.

"I think Stark only pushed that I should do it so he could pull them out every now and then to torment me." Natasha couldn't help it, and was only just barely able to swallow back a laugh of her own. The unimpressed look Steve shot her was severely undermined by the way his own eyes were laughing.

"But," they both turned back to Nina, who was grabbing the tablet back from the Twins even as she glanced impishly at Steve, "this is definitely the best of the Captain America videos out there." Steve suddenly looked very worried.

Oh, Natasha could just tell this was going to be good.

At once, the volume was raised on the tune Nat and Steve had heard just before she'd asked Nina and the Twins what they were watching. And it was suddenly loud enough that the two Avengers could clearly hear the lyrics that went along with the cheesy, yet catchy tune.

"— _a threat and a war we must win! Who'll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin? Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America? Who's here to prove that we can?_ "

"Oh no," she heard Steve groan behind her. And judging by the particular way the 'no' grew muffled? His head had fallen to his hands. Natasha turned, her own wicked grin spreading across her face, especially as the chorus swelled through the room.

" _The Star Spangled Man with a plan!_ "

"You didn't tell me about this," she teased. Steve's head lifted, his eyes narrowing at her.

"That's because I've been trying to forget it ever happened," he muttered. Natasha snickered, earning an admonishing look from the Captain.

"The visuals are pretty fun too," Nina added, speaking over the merciless throwback to Steve's performing days as the Captain during the War. "They've got a slideshow playing along with it with some of the posters and some clips from some of the propaganda reels. They've even got photos from the stage show, including one of Steve punching Hitler complete with swooning dancing girls. It's just perfect! And the costume is just too goofy."

"It was that," Steve murmured, though there was a note of nostalgia there that had Natasha looking to him with a faint frown of wonder.

"Well, I had always wondered where the design for the uniform came from," Wanda said playfully before Nat could even consider probing into the sudden change in her friend's demeanour. "The one he has now is much better, I think."

"I don't know; wouldn't it have been better to keep the tights?" Pietro cut in, his suddenly serious tone belied by his impish grin as he looked to Steve. "Better ease of movement, no?"

"Very funny, guys," Steve cut in dryly. "And they didn't stretch as well as you'd think…not to mention they rode up." Natasha was sure one of them was going to hurt themselves, given the intensity of the laughter that followed the admission. But despite his projected aggravation at the whole topic, Steve huffed out a laugh of his own. Natasha shook her head fondly.

"I think I need to see this video," Natasha teased. With a surprisingly theatrical put-upon sigh, Steve stood, grabbing up his mug.

"I will leave you to it, then," he said with an overly polite tone that nevertheless betrayed both his good-natured chagrin at the unexpected foray into his past and amusement at the same. Natasha grinned, laying a hand on his arm as he passed to return his mug to the kitchenette. He spared her a thankful glance at the gesture.

And as he turned away from the sink, Natasha was pulling herself to her feet., unable to resist catching his eye with an impish expression of her own as she made her way across the Common Area to plunk herself down next to Nina.

Natasha couldn't help but laugh as Steve beat a hasty retreat, trying and failing to make it seem like he wasn't running from the reminder of what he apparently saw as a particularly mortifying episode from his past. As he made a beeline for the door, Natasha was turning her own wicked grin to her niece.

"Start it over."


	72. Chapter 71

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Summer 2015**

Nadine was antsy. Restless. Anxious, even. She'd been spending too much time dwelling on her past. And despite how cathartic dealing with Madame B had been, it had also brought a great deal forward that Nadine would've much preferred to leave buried. And that left her feeling unsettled. Anxious to move, to  _do_  something.

And that was even with the tasks at hand to keep her occupied. Her searches into those Madame B had spilled her secrets to and their associates was going well, fuelled by a determination borne of her disquiet. A mercy of her training, really; channelling her frustrations into her mission, whatever that may be. But it wasn't perfect. Especially when her tasks were more sedentary in nature. She had long been conditioned to be active, and sitting in front of computer screens didn't quite mesh well with that.

Especially when she was like this.

So the urge to move was something Nadine was long used to. It was a restlessness she was usually easily able to address with something as simple as a more intensive than usual exercise routine. But as Nadine settled back onto her heels, her breath coming hard and her limbs beginning to ache numbly from the workout she'd just put herself through, she knew she had little choice but to admit it.

This was different.

It crawled and scratched beneath her skin, a sensation like prickling needles skittering up and down her spine. It was a helpless sort of frustration that she couldn't seem to identify. She swore softly under her breath as she irritably brushed back a few escaped strands of her pale hair from where they clung to her sweat-slicked face and neck. It was a frustration that none of her regular outlets could seem to dissipate.

Most of her regular outlets, at least.

Her hands fisted, the wrappings she'd wound around her wrists the only thing keeping her nails from biting into her palms. She shook the thought from her head, not letting herself consider it.

She wasn't in a position to go hunting just now, after all, so that one was off the table…for the time being, at least. Besides, the way she was feeling? There was no guarantee any such undertaking would work anyway. It meant less likely solutions had begun flitting through her brain in effort to find something to ease the feeling.

Getting laid, perhaps? But she immediately shook that option aside as well at the face and accompanying body that slowly tried swimming into focus at the idea. She didn't want to think of the owner of that face that way. He was so much more than just his—admittedly gorgeous; the man was a specimen of the highest degree—appearance. He was good and just and compassionate and he was treating her with far more respect and trust than she knew she deserved.

Not to mention, she figured it was highly unlikely he would want anything of the sort with someone like her…and that wasn't even accounting for her past with his best friend.

No. That would never happen. Nothing with him would, be it sex or something more. So there was no point even letting herself think about it, much less hope. So the little flutter of anticipation deep in her belly could just disappear and leave her in peace. And it could take the mental image of the Captain's warm, ocean-hued eyes and chiselled—and currently shirtless, thanks to her overactive imagination—physique with it.

She wasn't going there.

Besides, the last time she'd tried to let off some steam that way, it hadn't worked. Too many memories. It had only made things worse. And while she suspected partner would be everything, her instincts seemed to want to lead her down paths she was certain were wiser turned away from.

The suggestion of another potential outlet niggled at the back of her mind, hovering just beyond recognition.

The longer this dragged on, the more she couldn't escape the feeling that she had experienced an urge like this one once before. But she couldn't quite seem to make the connection.

Or maybe part of her didn't want to, what with her past haunting her more intently than normal….

With a silent snarl, she lashed out at the flesh-toned dummy, the impact of her wrapped fist on the training tool and the dull, resounding thud of it toppling over echoing through the dimly lit workout room. Spinning, she stalked away, her pacing steps muted by the traction coating and light padding that covered the floor of the centre of the room.

It was like…it was like a shiver under her skin. A restless urge deep in in her bones to move. A tension, a longing in her limbs to…she wasn't sure. She pressed her wrapped palms to her temples, smoothing them back from her cooling face over her securely pulled-back hair. It was like a humming, unrealized memory pressing against the edge of her mind…

…her irritable pacing faltered, realization hovering on the edge of her consciousness, bringing with it a peculiar sense of calm…

…that was it.

It was a memory. Of a sort. Muscle memory. Her body longing to move as it remembered doing what felt like a lifetime ago. It was echo of something she might have loved in another life; something tainted and corrupted and twisted by her training. Yet something that still held a trace of…comfort. Familiarity.

Something she'd tentatively begun to reclaim when she'd built the life to hide herself and her child in.

As realization washed over her, her eyes sliding shut with the relief of it, she found herself toeing off her shoes and socks, rising to her toes once she was free of them, her form loosening as she circled to the centre of the training floor…

And each step became a dance.

She wanted—even longed—to dance.

And she didn't want to fight it. It felt  _right_.

She let her mind go blank and allowed her body to take the lead, letting the impulse loose.

Her steps grew deliberate and flowing, her feet following long ingrained patterns with practiced ease, her arms and hands instinctively taking up their graceful arcs, lending elegance to her dance even as they lent her balance as she turned and swayed.

Her pulse slowed from its exertions on the training mat, beating a gentle rhythm beneath her breastbone. A rhythm her memory echoed, the cool voice that had once called it out emerging from her past like a wraith out of her nightmares.

Monsieur's voice.

Their ballet instructor had been merciless, unforgiving, cold and exacting. He had worked in tandem, in harmony with Madame B. His sharp features and sharper tongue had been just as respected and feared in the Red Room as the training mistress' had been. He perhaps hadn't had her vicious, vindictive streak or her thirst for blood, but he had been just as cruel. He had taken pleasure in pushing them all to their breaking point, and an icy gleam would surface in his emotionless eyes when one of them broke. She could still feel the frigid, condescending sensation of his gaze as it raked over her, assessing, evaluating, measuring, and always finding wanting. Lacking. Failing. A chill ran down her spine at the phantom memory of chilled fingers, hard fingers, bruising fingers on arms and legs and necks, correcting mistakes and punishing failure without compassion or mercy. Always pushing. Always  _again_. And never satisfied. Not when bodies shook and faltered with exhaustion. Not even when they moved and danced with utter perfection. He was never satisfied.

Save when causing pain.

She blinked away the memory.

She had no intention of letting it haunt her. Not like she had with Madame B's memory. She'd allowed that to go on for quite long enough.

So despite all the bad—no, not bad, not by a long shot—horrific memories evoked by the dance itself, it was still, somehow, comforting. Familiar. Soothing, even.

There was a peace in letting go, surrendering, in letting her body take over and letting her mind shut off. In letting herself forget everything, even if just for a few moments. To fall back on the movements so ingrained in her body's memory that, even near twenty years later, she didn't falter.

It was almost…cathartic. No, it was cathartic. With every step and turn—every plie and chaînés and polonaise, pirouette, piqué and rise—everything just seemed to bleed away, like poison draining from a wound. Just as it had that late night in the studio all those years before when her identity as Nadine Ryker, Ballet Mistress, had been new.

She only faltered when the lights came up, and she realized she was no longer alone.

Instincts snapping back to attention, she spun, stance angled, face a mask and fists curled loosely, ready for a fight.

Natasha just stood there in the door, watching her. Looking…lost. Almost…frightened, even. Nadine's breath caught painfully as the peace she'd sunk into faded, her gut suddenly aching at the expression looking back at her. She had never seen her little sister look so vulnerable, so…broken.

And then in a blink it was gone, deftly hidden by her sister's characteristic knowing, even sly expression. But there was a hardness to Natasha's features that told her just as much as if the careful mask hadn't snapped into place.

"Revisiting old memories?" It was asked so easily, Nadine nearly missed the bitter, brittle waver in her sister's pointedly amused tone.

"Reclaiming them," Nadine countered softly, ignoring the prickle behind her nose and the damp warmth gathering in the corners of her eyes, "taking away their power." Natasha's mask faltered for a split-second, and Nadine's gut ached at the well of conflicting emotions swirling in the familiar green depths. But control was quickly regained and Nat's brow quirked, her gaze sliding away from Nadine's to take in the abandoned shoes at the edge of the mat and the toppled training dummy as a nearly patronizing smirk curled her lips.

"That's one way to handle them, I suppose. Personally, I just leave them well enough alone. There's no point in dwelling on things that can't be changed." She pointedly met Nadine's gaze, as though daring her to disagree.

But Nadine did dare.

"Just because they can't be changed doesn't mean they can't be conquered," she said simply. Nat's eyes were growing suspiciously damp, but her expression of tolerant skepticism didn't falter. Nadine raised an eyebrow of her own to mirror her sister's. "Or have you forgotten what we did in Paris?" Natasha swallowed thickly, her calm expression wavering.

"You should know all ghosts aren't defeated quite that easily," she said, the faintest of tremors in her voice saying more than any shout could've.

Nadine sighed sadly. "I know. But you have to start somewhere. And dancing again? It's a step for me. One of many."

"A step to what?"

"Reclaiming myself." Natasha's eyes had grown painfully bright, but Nadine continued, her voice careful and measured, as though speaking too loud would scare her sister away. "I have to do this my way, Natalia. Raising Nina, freeing myself from Madame B? They're steps. Steps to finding out who I am again.

"Steps that you took years ago," she finished firmly, not dropping Natasha's gaze, "even if they took a different route than the one I'm taking." Natasha's lips curled gently, the expression pained and sad but slowly shifting toward understanding. She got it, Nadine realized with a soft sigh of relief. Natasha stepped further into the workout room, her gaze surveying the space again as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she let out a heavy breath, turning back to Nadine.

"But…Nadya, this?" She gestured to Nadine, her tone nearly pleading. There was no doubting what she meant. Natasha simply couldn't wrap her head around the idea of actually  _wanting_  to dance again. Some scars just ran too deep. "I—I can't even…I just can't wrap my head around how you could even set foot in a studio, much less run one. And dancing…" her voice trailed off, the first threads of panic colouring the uneasy waver that she had very nearly been able to hide with condescension. Nadine watched her sister with sympathy. She wasn't entirely sure she could answer. Not completely. There were times when she felt like she knew why, but more often than not, she honestly had no idea herself. Her shoulders hitched in an almost-shrug.

"It was something I knew that wasn't killing, and I needed something to present to the world. And…" she faltered, a confession on the tip of her tongue she wasn't quite sure she'd even admitted to herself.

But then it was like something clicked into place. A revelation…no, not a revelation. A shift, deep within the fabric of who she was; like a pulled thread had been carefully tugged and manipulated back into place. She blinked as she watched the redheaded assassin in front of her. Mirroring her.

It was  _Natasha_. Her sister. And she trusted her sister without reservation, enough to admit truths about herself she wasn't sure even she had known. It might not be the most profound of confessions waiting patiently on her tongue, but it was one. And she wanted, even  _needed_  to share it. To prove to herself that she could do it. That she could be  _herself_  with Natasha. She straightened, meeting her little sister's eye head on, allowing her own mask to fall completely.

"I…I think I liked dancing, Natalia," she said softly, a wash of calm coming over her as the revelation spun out ahead of her, unravelling and becoming clear to her as the words fell from her tongue. "Despite all the pain, the punishment…for all Monsieur's cruelty; for all that the routines were one more step to conditioning us into weapons …it never quite felt like…I don't know." She paused, suddenly unsure how to explain the feeling in a way that would make sense to someone who wouldn't feel the same. Shifting her weight she looked down to her hands, taking stock of her thoughts, absently massaging her palm beneath her wrappings. Natasha watched her, her features wearing a peculiar mix of wary uncertainty, doubt and fascination. Nadine finally shrugged. "It wasn't the same as the rest of the training. There were times, moments, when I could disappear inside my own head as I danced. It…it became a bit of a refuge, I think, despite everything else that happened in that place. Not that I realized it at the time." A small, surprised sound a little like a chuckle escaped her at the thought. "I don't even think I realized it when I opened my Studio. I don't think I ever realized it.

"Not 'til now." She met Natasha's gaze again. The younger spy seemed to follow, if Nadine was reading what she saw right. But despite that, Natasha was slowly shaking her head.

"It wasn't for me," she said wearily. The ache in Nadine's heart renewed. "Sometimes…sometimes I can still hear him, Monsieur, in my head;  _again_ … _again_ …" she inhaled, her breath shaking as her voice threatened to, "… _again_." She looked up to Nadine, her eyes growing hard and cold behind the bright sheen threatening to overwhelm them. "It took me a long time to silence him." Nadine's gut clenched at the quiet confession, but there was something in her sister's voice…it said more than she suspected Natasha had been intending to shifted again, straightening. Natasha's head tilted minutely, her eyes narrowing as she read the change in Nadine's demeanour.

Nadine levelled her sister with a thoughtful look. "I thought about going after him, you know. Monsieur, like we did with Madame B."

"Oh?" Natasha's response was careful and controlled, with just the right amount of interest. Anyone but Nadine would've believed the redhead wasn't sure where she was going with the comment. But Nadine could see it; Natasha knew exactly what she was doing. Nadine nodded slowly.

"I even started tracing him. Do you know what I found?" A distracted, non-committal hum was her only answer, but her sister's posture and the barely noticeable tension in her hands told a different story. She was fairly certain she had her answer without even voicing the real question. Nadine sighed internally, nodding once. "He's already dead."

"Really." Natasha's tone was nearly politely disinterested, as though Nadine was commenting on nothing more interesting in the weather. Nadine wondered if Natasha could feel her gaze, sharp as it was by now.

"Seven years ago. Car accident," she said, her delivery carefully offhanded. Natasha made a vague sound of interest.

"Deadly, those," the younger assassin quipped back. And there it was; a cold, sharp edge to her tone. It was all the confirmation Nadine needed. And judging by the sudden flicker in her sister's eyes? Natasha knew she'd caught it.

Not that she seemed to truly care.

A small, satisfied grin played about Nadine's mouth. "Only sometimes," she said back. Natasha's guarded expression eased slightly, the trace of tension in her frame easing at Nadine's implied approval. Shifting herself, Natasha's hands rubbed absently over her thighs.

And in a blink, she was a different person again, the Natasha Nadine had come to know since Prague re-emerging to hide the damaged, haunted Natasha she normally kept buried far and away from sight. All trace of the emotional distress of a moment before was gone, save for the faintest of shadows in her eyes and a glimmer of moisture in her eyes that was quickly blinked away. Nadine nearly shook her head in amusement, knowing she was the same way. She absently cleared her throat, suddenly feeling far lighter than she had in a long time.

The anxious, restless energy that had plagued her when she'd first sought out the Avenger's Exercise Room had long since faded.

"Were you looking for me?" she asked lightly, smiling as she shot her sister a faintly questioning look. Natasha's brow raised, grinning with amusement of her own.

"Yes, actually." She paced forward, circling past Nadine to the toppled training dummy near the edge of the training floor, sparing the briefest of questioning, amused glances at Nadine. Nadine lifted a questioning brow if her own when Natasha purposefully didn't continue.

Brat…

"And?" she prompted dryly. Natasha turned, smirking, her eyes gleaming with poorly suppressed amusement.

"The Twins are joining the Team," she finally said, clasping her hands loosely in front of her as she turned to face Nadine properly. It wasn't quite what Nadine had expected, but she couldn't quite say she was surprised. She'd had her suspicions thanks to the odd overheard word from Nina and the two Maximoffs. But that wasn't all of it. Even if she hadn't noticed the hint of anticipation in her sister's grin, she probably would've been suspicious.

So Nadine shot Natasha a penetrating look but merely said: "good for them." Sure enough, at the subtle tilt of her sister's head, she knew what was coming next.

"I want Nina to train with them."

Nadine's answer was immediate and instinctive. "No."

"Why not?" There was no heat and no surprise to Natasha's question. Only a patient sort of exasperation. Sort of like she was just asking the question because it was expected, Nadine was severely tempted to wrinkle her nose in annoyance at her little sister, but instead settled for crossing her arms and fixing Natasha with a firm stare.

"She's not going to train to be an Avenger." If anything, Natasha's smirk grew smug at Nadine's answer. Nadine nearly scoffed. Really, if Natasha knew she was going to answer like that, why was she even bothering to ask?

Mirroring Nadine's pose, Natasha crossed her arms and cocked a hip, raising a brow in challenge at her older sister. "Did I say that?" Nadine was torn between scowling and rolling her eyes, settling on neither in favour of maintaining at least some semblance of self-control. Her eyes narrowed at the younger spy.

"Don't be slippery, Natalia. Don't forget, I can see through it."

"I'm being straight this time, Nadine," Natasha said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, "Nina's not ready to even think of becoming an Avenger. Not by a long shot. I swear that's not the goal here." Her expression seemed sincere, but there was still something in her eyes—a scheming sort of something—that had Nadine wary. "It's just an offer to let her train with them. To hone the skills you started teaching her; you know, the ones that helped her in Sokovia?" Nadine tensed. Of course she had to bring that up. Natasha, seeing her reaction, sighed, growing serious, weighing her next words carefully.

"She's part of this now, Nadya," she said finally, all hint of scheming and amusement set aside in favour of genuine candour. "All of this, and even you can't shield her from it anymore," she said, hands still out in front of her in a gesture of appeal. But then the trace of a smug, even righteous grin was once again tugging at the corner of her lip. "So she might as well keep learning how to hold her own." Nadine could only look at her sister in shock, her face utterly blank even as her thoughts spun with what Natasha was suggesting. Not to mention the way her gut twisted; hadn't she already been considering something similar?

" _Lisichka_ —" It was little more than a choked murmur, but Natasha heard it and nodded, her expression reassuring despite the hint of triumph beginning to surface in her eyes. Nadine nearly bristled when she saw it, but managed to hold herself back. Whether she liked it or not, the younger spy wasn't wrong.

That didn't mean Nadine had to like it, though. Natasha approached slowly, reaching out to lay a hand on Nadine's arm where it had fallen to her side. It was then that Nadine noticed her hands had fisted. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to relax.

It only half worked.

"It'll be a safe environment," Natasha continued in her pitch as she began leading Nadine over to where she'd left her shoes, sounding completely undeterred and even eager despite Nadine's obvious reluctance. "The Twins already took me and Steve up on the offer, so she'll have training companions. And if somewhere down the road—years down the road," she amended with a faintly teasing smirk at the small, indignant noise that escaped Nadine at the comment, "she wants to join the team, we'll cross that bridge then," she concluded with an absent gesture before once again turning serious, her green gaze fixing intently on Nadine. "But for now, I'm not about to let her sign up anymore than you would. Neither would Steve. And I know you know that. It's just training." Nadine bit back a sigh. She did know it. She did know that Natasha was nearly as protective of Nina as Nadine was and Steve wasn't far behind.

It was part of why she'd convinced herself to stay for as long as they had; because she knew Nina would be safe here.

"We both know you don't want her to even think of becoming one of us," Natasha continued gently, leaning into Nadine, linking their arms, "but you can't deny that the things we know are also pretty useful for staying alive. It's more than just knowing how to fight, after all, and you know that better than anyone. It's about learning to be aware, how to analyse for threats, how to recognize when a situation is going bad and how best to get out of it. All of it.

"And now that she knows about all this?" She gestured absently around them, indicating the Compound and all that it implied. "Wouldn't it be better if she could handle herself? You're not always going to be there, Nadya. You weren't there in Vienna." Nadine tensed again at the reminder, glancing sharply to her sister expecting accusation, but Natasha had met her gaze head on. The moment stretched, neither giving way, each evaluating the other.

It was Nadine who ultimately backed down under her little sister's knowing gaze. It wasn't accusing, merely the truth. She was just pointing out that Nadine realistically couldn't be everywhere. That, as much as she might like to, she simply couldn't always be around to protect Nina. And she did know that. She just had to fight back a flicker of panic at the knowledge. Natasha's loose hold on her arm slid down until she was grasping Nadine's hand, squeezing gently.

"I think she needs this, Nadine," Natasha pressed softly. "Just like Wanda needed a mission, I think Nina needs this." Nadine sighed, pulling away to toe her shoes around so she could slip them back on. Natasha circled around to stand in front of her, her arms crossing loosely as she waited patiently for Nadine to respond. Finally, Nadine straightened, meeting her sister's gaze. It had grown almost smug again, the redhead looking pleased. She knew Nadine had all but made up her mind, and Natasha already seemed to know it was in her favour. Was she growing predictable? Nadine narrowed her eyes at Natasha again as she studied her sister. There was something else there, and it took Nadine a moment to put her finger on it.

"You have an angle," she stated. Natasha shrugged absently, not bothering to deny it. Nadine's eyes narrowed further. Of course.

"It's not what you think," Natasha said, not sounding overly concerned that she'd been caught out. Nadine's brows lifted in astonishment and challenge.

"Oh? What is it, then?" Natasha's smirk deepened at the question.

"I want you to help."

Nadine was nearly speechless. Nearly. "What?"

That wasn't at all what she'd expected. She knew Natasha wanted her to stay, but this? Natasha nodded, looking deeply amused by Nadine's reaction.

"Stick around. Help me train them up; the Twins to be Avengers; Nina to take care of herself in our world."

"Nat—" Nadine objected, but Natasha waved it off.

"I've already talked it over with Steve and he's on board," she said with no small trace of finality. "He thinks your experience as an instructor and as an independent agent will be valuable." Nadine started at her sister's pronouncement.

And the traitorous little flutter that seemed to be showing up more frequently when her thoughts turned to the Captain resurfaced from where she'd banished it to earlier that day.

Fighting back the heat suddenly threatening to rise to her cheeks, Nadine busied herself with beginning to unwrap her wrists, forcing the flutter back to where it belonged.

Only to frown as she glanced back up to her sister.

Well, that was a peculiar look.

And Nadine wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what the thoughtful look Natasha was suddenly carefully hiding away meant. Not that it stopped her stomach from flipping nervously…

Almost as soon as it had appeared, the curious expression was gone and Natasha was grinning both confidently and encouragingly at Nadine.

"Think about it," she urged with a knowing look, her lips quirking. "And ask Nina what she wants to do." Nadine scowled at Natasha's sly smile as she turned and left Nadine alone on the mat.

Tricky little fox.


	73. Chapter 72

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Summer 2015**

Before Nadine knew it, summer was beginning to circle around to autumn. The Avengers Compound was, at most, a few days away from being officially completed. The work on construction and outfitting was finally wrapped up. There were a handful of the latest Stark-made Quinjets on the landing pad and technicians of all kinds scurried and flitted about. The whole facility was teaming with personnel, really—many former S.H.I.E.L.D., if Nadine wasn't mistaken—and the Team itself, its newest members included, were settling in, preparing for whatever training regimen Rogers and Natasha seemed to be cooking up.

It really had become the home of the Avengers.

And Nadine had somehow settled into life at the Compound right alongside them. She really had, and for the life of her, she hadn't entirely figured out  _how_. How was it that she already felt so comfortable here?

Because she could be herself here. Without any pretenses. There was no need for them. She honestly felt like she could let her guard down in this place. Not that she didn't still disappear behind her masks more often than not. It was more that she felt like she could. She had the freedom to be open even if she wasn't quite practicing the impulse yet. She felt like, should the urge grab her, she could just  _talk_  to people, be it her sister or the guy eating his sandwich in the agents' cafeteria, without having to police her every word and expression, without having to analyze and study everything the other person said or did.

Perhaps that was why.

It was comfortable because she was learning she could be herself and no one would bat an eye. Everyone knew she had her secrets and they let her be. She was what she was, a highly trained and Enhanced spy and assassin, and that was that. It was no different in this place than Natasha being Black Widow, or Stark Iron Man. They all just were.

It was something she was still getting used to. But she found she liked it, bewildering as it was.

Never once had she expected to be respected for being what she was. Not like she was at the Avengers Compound. It was the same sort of respect the Avengers were given. An admiring sort, rather than the intimidated, fearful sort she had anticipated when word made it around about just what she was. Especially as word about her role in taking Strucker's base, her part in fixing the Ultron Fiasco and her alliance with the Avengers joined that talk. It truly did lend credence to Natasha's observations from before their mission in Paris that most of the people in the Compound saw her as a de facto Avenger. She still didn't see herself as one—not by a long shot—but it was a strangely reassuring feeling nonetheless.

That wasn't to say it had been a completely seamless transition. The Ghost was not infamous, after all, and rumour that the Avengers' mysterious new ally was in fact The Ghost was being whispered around the Compound. So while most treated her much as they treated the Avengers—with respectful deference and an appropriate measure of distance—thanks to her role in fighting by their side, there were no few nervous, suspicious and even fearful glances sent her way that always managed to wear on her after a while.

Not that she was exactly surprised by that either. Even if her identity as The Ghost was still hearsay beyond the Avengers and their inner most circle of allies, she  _was_  an assassin, and an Enhanced one at that. But as far as the rest of the Compound was concerned, she was a highly trained operative just as Natasha was, who had also thrown in with the Avengers in Sokovia. But she wasn't about to go shouting it out that she was The Ghost, no matter how comfortable she was growing, and she wasn't going to apologize for it. She  _was_  wanted around the world, and she suspected the loyalty inherent to the Avengers within the facility and the uncertainty that she was actually the notorious Ghost was all that kept her presence from being reported.

But unconfirmed suspicions or not, the rumours still garnered her her fair share of sideways looks regardless of her role fighting with the Avengers against Ultron. She wasn't used to being around so many others who knew who she was, even if it was only suspected. So some trepidation and fear in her presence was understandable, she supposed.

That and she still found herself falling back on old habits more frequently than she wanted to admit. Habits like unconsciously or intentionally analyzing those around her when among people she didn't trust—which was pretty much everyone even on a good day—for threats even though she rationally knew the Compound was safe, or studying the reactions of those she spoke to for undue interest or evidence they were lying. Habits like shutting herself off and evading even the most innocuous and friendly of questions. Habits that, on anyone else, would've easily been considered signs of extreme paranoia and severe trust issues, but were simply long ingrained remnants of Nadine's training. Habits she'd been relying on for years to keep her identity protected and her daughter safe.

Like the day she had found herself running checks on the base's personnel; that one had gotten her into a standoff with Hill that a very frustrated Natasha had been pulled in to break up. That had certainly led to a tense couple days. Tense enough that Nadine had begun considering moving on again.

But she was working past it. While her instincts for awareness and caution didn't ease, she was nevertheless learning to relax, to accept that she was no longer alone but among allies. Even friends. The ability to trust easily was still a long way away, if it ever returned to her, but she was getting to the point where she was no longer suspecting everyone of…well, anything.

It was comfortable. Far more so than she had anticipated.

More importantly, Nina seemed to feel at home here. She felt  _safe_  here. And that was far more important to Nadine than any other consideration when it came to sticking around.

That, and the fact that she was healing. Despite the knowledge that Nadine was still keeping secrets lay between them, Nina was bouncing back from everything she'd been through, more and more of her usual sunny self returning with each passing day. She was talking to Nadine again. She was laughing and bantering with her again. She didn't balk at the idea of having dinner just with Nadine anymore, just mother and daughter, like they used to before everything had fallen apart. They'd even gone off on a couple mother/daughter shopping trips, spending the day alone but for the other…and on occasion Natasha when she invited herself along. It was a return to normalcy, or as close as they were likely to get, and it relieved Nadine to no end.

Yet, for all that Nina was all but herself again, there was still something bothering her, something Nadine could just sense. How, be it thanks to her extensive training kicking in or simply a mom's sixth sense, Nadine didn't know. Nina was keeping something from her. And she was hiding whatever it was well. Something was bothering her daughter a great deal. And Nadine suspected it very much had something to do with what had happened in Sokovia. More specifically, what had happened when Ultron had nearly killed her, Pietro, Barton and the young Sokovian boy.

Nina still hadn't said a word to Nadine about what had happened that day. She had some idea what had gone down, of course. Barton had related what he could, apologetic that he hadn't seen more in his attempts to shield the boy, while the Twins both had related a little of what they remembered. Both had been exceedingly vague, though. It troubled Nadine, if she was being honest. It left her worried that Nina wasn't coping as well as she was leading everyone to believe and that the Twins were covering for her, helping her hide it away. She wasn't sure she believed that, but it was a lingering fear that clung to the edge of her thoughts.

Still, despite whatever it was that she was or wasn't hiding, Nina seemed to be genuinely coming to terms with everything Nadine had laid on her shoulders and everything she had endured since that awful moment when she had been snatched away. Naturally the shadow of Nadine's secrets still lingered between them—diminished, yes, but not gone—but Nadine suspected she was still working through what she'd been told. And that was inevitably going to take time. Nadine accepted that. But neither was Nina dwelling on it quite so intently anymore. She was speaking to Nadine again, and things were beginning to feel the way they had before Vienna. Before Nadine had been sent after her sister.

They'd never be the same of course, but Nadine could live with 'close.'

Still, the realization left her loath to think on the small, inescapable reality that Nadine had yet to tell her daughter everything. They both knew it, and Nadine sometimes caught Nina looking at her with a wary sort of thoughtfulness that could only stem from that knowledge. Nina wanted to know. There was little doubt about that. And on more than one occasion since their reconciliation, Nadine suspected her daughter was just barely restraining herself from grilling Nadine in the hopes that the blonde assassin would give in and tell her the rest, or that she would let something else, some small detail slip the way she had let Barnes' first name slip. But Nina managed to keep the impulse in check, something that impressed Nadine a great deal, if she was being completely honest.

It also made her a little sad. Her daughter had become more circumspect. More patient. Where once Nina had been endearingly—and sometimes not so endearingly—open, impulsive and impatient when she was curious about something, she now had a measure of control Nadine wasn't used to seeing. Perhaps Nina had always had it, Nadine mused, but had just never encountered an occasion where it had been truly necessary to use it.

She was trying to prove to her mom that she was ready to hear the rest of what Nadine was keeping from her. It was a painful thought, truthfully. Perhaps in some ways Nina was ready, but in others?

And that thought inevitably led to Nadine's worry about what Nina seemed willing to give up.

Not once since they'd started talking again had Nina mentioned university or even how she felt about being unable to return to their old life. Nothing about missing out on finals or graduation. No regrets about not saying goodbye to friends. Nothing about her university applications or how their new status—more specifically Nadine's status—as fugitives had impacted them.

It honestly left Nadine feeling sick. Nina had been so excited about university, throwing herself into her classes, diligently filling out applications for schools and scholarships…and Nadine's actions had destroyed all her hard work. The world now knew that Nadine Ryker was The Ghost, and Nina was affected purely by association. Sure, there were ways to ensure Nina still had the opportunities that Nadine had always fought for her to have—she'd already begun working on a few in her spare time around the Compound—so she could still go off to school if she really wanted.

But she hadn't even said a word about any of it. Even in passing. It left Nadine worried and even a little afraid.

Did Nina now plan on making her life in this world? Was she still adjusting, and simply hadn't thought about something so mundane as school yet?

Or did she no longer want the things she had before, the things she'd been working so hard toward? She'd planned on pursuing computer sciences, primarily—writing programs and algorithms, solving problems—with perhaps some dabbling into public relations or digital communications, or even a bit of the social sciences. She hadn't decided that part out yet. But it all came down to helping people. She hadn't been quite sure how, but she'd been certain she'd figure it out.

Now?

Had Nina really turned away from that future? All because of what happened? Because of the fallout from what Nadine had done? Or was it just a temporary distraction? Nadine hoped it was the latter, but she suspected it might be the former.

Or did Nina think she just couldn't have that kind of future anymore?

Nadine didn't even want to consider that possibility, her stomach clenching at the very thought.

Honestly, Nadine had no idea. Not without Nina confiding in her. And on this? Nina had been distinctly mum.

But Nadine couldn't escape the feeling that she was onto something. That her suspicions that Nina believed she wanted to be a part of this world were, at the very least, on the right track. But for Nina's sake, she hoped she was wrong. Especially given what she knew about the kind of life that would await her.

It was a hard life. A dangerous life.

A lonely life.

And a life Nadine wanted almost desperately to save Nina from. She couldn't fight the feeling that, for all that Nina seemed determined to make a place for herself alongside her new friends, among the Avengers, she was still far too innocent and compassionate to spend the rest of her life fighting. Nina wasn't Nadine. She wasn't Natasha, or Rogers, Barton or Stark or even the Twins. She was Nadine's little sun, and Nadine feared her natural brightness would dim if she tried to make herself into an Avenger. At times, Nadine wanted nothing more than to take Nina away from the Compound and convince her to never look back.

But she also knew it was an impossible hope.

As much as she wanted to deny it, Nina was part of this world now, and Nadine knew she needed to start preparing for what that meant. Especially since she knew Nina  _wanted_  to be part of it. She could see it in her eyes. She wasn't entirely sure Nina even realized it yet, but Nadine could tell. Her experience had woken something in Nina, something that had been groomed and fostered in Nadine and Natasha as they distanced themselves from the Red Room, something that drove all the Avengers to defend and fight. Whether it was a strong enough urge that Nina felt compelled to join them in their mission to protect and avenge was yet to be seen, but it was there.

More than that, it was becoming more and more clear that Nina felt like she belonged here, among the Avengers, whether she one day joined the fight or not. Just like Nadine was beginning to feel. There was no escaping that reality. Not anymore.

And that had been precisely Natasha's angle when she'd approached Nadine the week before about Nina joining the Twins in their training.

It was why Nadine had reluctantly agreed regardless of her reservations about the whole thing. Natasha was certain it would do Nina good and reluctantly Nadine had to agree. The training would help give Nina back the sense of control that had been stolen from her that day in Vienna. It would give her the knowledge and thus the confidence that she could handle herself. Not that she hadn't been able to before, of course. But now that she was linked to the Avengers? Anything she was likely to come up against would be in a league beyond anything she'd grown up learning to face: Super Spies and Enhanced persons as opposed to an opponent in competition or a mugger or handsy stranger.

Plus, there was the chance that, in giving Nina a taste of what a life among the Avengers would be like, it would lead to Nina realizing it wasn't really what she wanted to do.

Or so was the hope.

At least Nadine could be sure she would approve of what Natasha and Rogers were planning for getting their new recruits up to speed. Natasha hadn't been subtle at all when she'd approached Nadine for her opinion on their plans; she'd obviously been fishing for participation by asking for input. Natasha was trying to seduce Nadine into joining up herself. At the very least, it was obvious she was hoping to enlist Nadine's help on the training side of things. She'd come right out and said it, after all.

And Nadine was severely tempted.

Only to remind herself that she had tasks of her own to accomplish. She'd finally finished compiling her list. She'd finalized her plan to pay a visit to the first batch of names she'd gathered. And perhaps even hit a couple potential hiding places where the former HYDRA heads may have stashed their intelligence insurance policies while she was at it. It had come time to make sure all her loose ends were tied up in neat little bows. As tempting as the idea was to take Natasha up on her unspoken offer, Nadine wasn't ready to do that, yet.

She was likely going to stick around in some capacity though; she was still determined to find Barnes for not only her and Nina's sake, but for Rogers as well. That would have to satisfy her sister for now.

And then there was Nina's happiness to consider. Nadine wasn't blind. Not only were there her feelings of belonging to contend with, but there were also her daughter's obviously growing feelings for a certain Sokovian boy and her deepening friendship with his sister. Nadine bit back a sigh at that. She was fairly certain Nina was trying to keep her fledgling relationship with Pietro between them and out of Nadine's awareness, but Nadine knew her daughter too well for that to entirely work.

She still wasn't sure how she felt about that development…

Her daughter's fledgling romance aside, Nadine knew how important the Twins had become to Nina. She wasn't ready to be separated from them yet. The three of them had come to rely on each other a great deal in the days and weeks since the Battle of Sokovia. Not to mention in the days before. She didn't want to take Nina away just yet. Not when she'd already lost so much.

So they would stick around for now. Nina for training and the support networks she'd come to rely on, Nadine to use the Compound as a home base as she ticked names off her list and resumed her search for Barnes. At the moment, she had more than enough on her plate.

Perhaps after this first portion of her mission was done and over with—pending its success, of course—she would consider Natasha's offer. Maybe.

But for now, she still had steps to take to ensure Nina was as safe as she could be.

Only, She wasn't leaving Nina behind to continue recovering this time. While she was gone, Nina would begin training. She'd already seen Nina thumbing through the textbooks she and Natasha had decided the three youngest members of the Team—though, she supposed Vision should probably be counted among them, if she thought it through—needed to read; books on strategy, tactics, psychology, critical thinking, intros to advanced maths, chemistry, physics and biology, all of it. There were even old mission files and material on the history of S.H.I.E.L.D. in there. They were getting a crash course on how to be the kind of agents Nadine, Natasha and Barton had become. Spies. Combat experts. Covert Ops Agents. The whole bit.

And, in theory, eventually Avengers.

She had to fight not to falter at that thought. Nina was effectively training to become an Avenger. And she believed that was what she wanted to do.

It was why Nadine had been so reluctant to bring up Natasha's offer to Nina, already certain she knew the answer she was sure to get. She wasn't exactly wrong, not that she got the chance to ask.

"Please, Mom. You've always encouraged me to learn how to take care of myself. How better to learn than from the Avengers, from your  _sister_." Nina's eyes had been wide and intent on her, nerves warring with determination in their blue-grey depths. "Nat is the best S.H.I.E.L.D. had, and nearly as good as you. She's one of the best teachers I could hope for!" Nadine had fought desperately back against the anxious worry gnawing in her gut at the plea, the affected confidence that hadn't quite covered the nervous waver in her daughter's voice.

She had also fought hard not to smile at her daughter's unashamed use of flattery. She didn't entirely succeed, the corner of her lip quirking even as she quirked a questioning brow. Nina's abashed smirk had been entirely too reminiscent of Natasha's, Nadine hadn't been able to help but think.

"Playing to my ego, are you,  _solnyshko_? Or my motherly instincts?" Nina's grin had only grown wider as she shrugged sheepishly.

"Both?" Nadine had nearly laughed. Grasping Nadine's hand, Nina had pressed on. "Please? I can do this," she'd said, her features turning earnest and pleading again as her mirth faded. Nadine had sighed, then.

"I know you're capable, Nina," she'd finally said quietly, squeezing her daughter's hand before her gaze had turned shrewd and her tone serious. "But this will be nothing like your sessions back in Vienna," she'd warned, "Natasha will not go easy on you." She had brushed her palm along her daughter's cheek then, biting back another heavy sigh at what she had ultimately said next: "It is  _your_ choice."

Nina's determined nod had made her stance clear, as had the resolve that had shone in her eyes. "I want to do this, Mom. I—"  _need to_. Her final words had been left unsaid, poised on the tip of her tongue but had been clear in her eyes. Nadine had heard it loud and clear. And her gut had twisted tighter at the confirmation. But Nadine had already agreed with her sister, and she had already left the choice in Nina's hands.

At least the nervous yet tentatively excited look in her daughter's face when Nadine had assented had done a little to encourage Nadine on the subject. As had the bone-crushing hug she'd trapped Nadine in.

But she still had her reservations. She couldn't quite see her daughter being happy in the field. Hence why she made sure to warn her sister of those reservations and her suspicions that this choice was more what Nina believed she should want than what she actually did want; concerns Natasha thankfully hadn't waved off. Nina had always been happy enough to learn, throwing herself into everything from school to her martial arts meets, but that was so much different than going into the field.

But Nina seemed determined to give it a try, her own reservations aside, so Nadine wasn't going to deny her.

Especially since she had been the one to start the process. Nina had grown up with games to improve memory, observational skills, critical thinking, listening, logic skills. She'd been taught how to fight and defend herself. She'd learned computer skills—far more than was strictly basic—and even how to build a basic computer among other devices under the guise of school projects, and Nadine had encouraged Nina's interest in the subject.

And she had, of course, taught Nina how to shoot.

Natasha had been completely right when she'd confronted Nadine with the claim that she'd been training Nina as a spy, inadvertently or not. Looking back now, it could not have been more obvious.

But at the same time, Nadine couldn't entirely dispute that part of Nina would be suited to Avenging. Whether she liked it or not, it was the kind of person she was. Nina had never been one to back down from doing what needed to be done. And there was little doubt that Nina had a strong sense of right versus wrong. She was kind-hearted and compassionate, and she had inherited every ounce of Nadine's conviction…Barnes' too, if Natasha's stories about the person he'd used to be were true. And Nina seemed to have inherited his determination not to sit back when he knew something was wrong. Incidents against bullies during her school days aside—especially one particularly memorable instance where Nadine had gotten a call even as she'd been a single shot away from completing a mission not even a year ago—her stance back in Sokovia when Nadine had been resolved to run made that abundantly clear.

As far as Nadine was concerned, Nina was a much better person than she was.

Case in point when considering what Nadine was planning to do. While she kept telling herself she was going just to talk to the people who had made it onto her list, there was a part of Nadine that knew it wasn't likely to stop at just that. In her gut, she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop herself from crossing names off her list. Permanently. And she couldn't quite bring herself to feel much in the way of remorse over that. It was what needed to be done. It was why she was currently striding through the Compound, garbed in a neatly-pressed and professional charcoal pantsuit, an away bag in her hand.

Natasha was the last one she needed to talk to before she left. She'd already spoken to Nina and she'd even notified Rogers, surprising herself that she'd given into the impulse. Surprisingly, both had taken the news in stride, Rogers turning serious and wishing her luck and Nina… Well, there had been no mistaking the trepidation in Nina's eyes, the memories from Vienna making themselves known even to Nadine. But her strengthening determination not to let her residual fears control her and growing nerves over her impending training had quickly buried them away again, and Nina had said her goodbyes with surprising cheer. It left Nadine feeling a great deal better about leaving.

Natasha was the last, and Nadine finally found her locked in quiet debate with Thor as she went over some aspect of her scheme for getting the newest batch of Avengers up to fighting form. Her sister was obviously taking advantage of Thor's unique perspectives while she could as the Asgardian was planning on departing from Earth within the week. It was the first Nadine had seen of him almost since Sokovia, the Asgardian having spent the last several weeks preparing to depart, not knowing when he'd make it back next. She might not have had much to do with the imposing Avenger, but Nadine had to admit she was going to miss his unique sense of humour and his curious brand of insight. With a smile and a rather excited glint in her eyes, Natasha extricated herself from her discussion with Thor when she caught sight of Nadine lingering in the doorway of the conference room the two Avengers had been holed up in.

"What's up, sis?" Nadine didn't bother to hide her grin at the redhead's cheeky greeting. But she sobered quickly enough.

"I'm heading out." Natasha frowned before turning thoughtful. But Nadine answered her question before the redhead even started to say it. "I have some leads to follow up on. I'll be gone at least a week. Perhaps two." Inadvertently Natasha nodded, satisfied that her suspicion had been correct before grinning wickedly.

"Need company?" Nadine brushed the offer aside—grateful nevertheless, which she demonstrated with another small grin—but her voice was quite serious.

"This is something I have to do myself,  _lisichka_. These are my loose ends I need to tie up." Natasha understood that. So she didn't argue. Smiling, she linked arms with Nadine, gesturing to Thor that she'd just be a minute, before turning the two of them toward the Compound's main garage, correctly deducing that was Nadine's next destination.

"So you're going to be okay leaving Nina with me?" Natasha finally asked as the two of them drew closer to where they would part, masking the earnest intent of her question with a teasing tone. "Not afraid I'm going to corrupt her?" Nadine couldn't help but laugh at the comment despite recognizing the unspoken question underlying it. She looked to Natasha, her expression growing serious even as a faint smile curled her lips.

"I trust you, Natalia."

And she meant it. Natasha beamed and wrapped her sister in a tight hug.

"Go get 'em," she murmured as Nadine earnestly returned the embrace before pulling back, her expression turning serious and sharp. "Do what you've got to do."

Of that, Nadine had every intention of complying.

And with a final goodbye, the sisters parted. Natasha back to her conference with Thor, and Nadine off to do The Ghost's work.


	74. Chapter 73

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Summer 2015**

One definite benefit to having the training she did was that, even in a facility as large as the new Avengers Compound, Natasha was pretty good at tracking people down. Not that it was a particularly tough task given the tools at hand; the new U.A. might not be J.A.R.V.I.S., but it was still undoubtedly indispensable on that front. It meant it didn't take long at all for Natasha to track down who she was looking for. Not that she was exactly hiding or anything.

In the nearly a week that Nadine had been gone so far, Natasha had barely seen Nina, her niece disappearing with the Twins for hours on end, usually reappearing in time for meals and to while away evenings in the common area working their way through the material Natasha and Nadine had decided would give them a good foundation for their impending 'Avenger Training.' So she figured it was about time she touched base with her adoptive niece. After all, her promise to Nadine aside, Natasha was rather invested in making sure Nina was doing okay herself.

Besides, one of Stark's people had come to her, asking that she track down Nina and the Twins. Something about uniforms.

Natasha was almost immediately frowning as she walked into the hanger, though, curiosity suddenly warring with concern when she spied Nina kneeling in the far corner by herself, the air around her wavering as though a curtain of heat and steam were rising around her. An uneasy suspicion that she hadn't actively thought about since Sokovia began wending its way back into her thoughts. Warily, she made her way over.

"Hey, kiddo." Nina looked up in surprise at the sound of Natasha's voice, the odd distortion around her disappearing. "What are you doing over here?" The girl swallowed thickly, trepidation clear in her eyes as she tried to find a way to explain. It was painfully obvious how unsettled she was at being caught out. And how anxious. And then it clicked for Natasha, the suspicion that had been lying dormant for the last couple weeks finally snapping into place.

Strucker's experiments had worked on Nina too.

Nina had powers.

But before she could say anything, with a flash of motion and a sharp gust, Pietro had appeared at Nina's side, lounged out casually beside her.

"Romanoff," he greeted lazily, though there was a keenness in his eyes that had Natasha eying him back just as closely, considering him.

He sat close to Nina, legs stretched out in front of him with ankles crossed casually, leaning back on his hands with one arm angled behind the willowy blonde so that she was nearly within an embrace. The message was clear even if he didn't realize he was giving it. Nina was scared and nervous about learning to control her powers and of having others discover she had them at all, and Pietro was protective of her because of it…well, that and the other reason…

"Relax, Romeo. I get it," she said dryly, earning a dull flush from Nina, "back off about the powers." She eyed the pair then, nearly laughing at the way they nervously glanced to each other.

"You're…" Nina hesitated, looking to Natasha warily, "you're not going to freak out?" Natasha couldn't help but scoff, causing Nina and Pietro's eyes both to go wide with surprise.

"More of the Avengers are Enhanced than not, Sweetie," she pointed out as she lowered herself down to sit, cross-legged, in front of the pair, "including me, I suppose, if we're being honest. So it's kind of par for the course in this place." Nina looked to Natasha in astonishment. She obviously hadn't known about Natasha's own brush with the Treatments Nadine had endured. Then again, until Nadine had confirmed it? Natasha had effectively been in a state of denial on the topic herself, unwilling to give credence to her own suspicions about precisely what she and her remaining groupmates had gone through in the Fall of '99. She grinned reassuringly at Nina. "Though, to be fair, you've arguably been Enhanced to some degree since the day you were born." She paused then, considering her niece for a moment before continuing.

"Honestly? Knowing what I do about Strucker, his Experiments and his interest in you specifically? I've been wondering how far he got with you." Nina swallowed thickly, looking down to her hands. Despite the nerves Natasha noted and the lingering fears from what had happened when she'd been under Strucker's control, the tension written all over Nina's slight frame began to dissipate. So, regardless of her interest in pursuing the topic, Natasha settled for changing tracks to her secondary reason for seeking the pair of them out. For the moment, of course. She wasn't done with this new development, yet. Especially given Nadine's warning about Nina not necessarily  _wanting_  to go through Avengers' training but rather feeling that she had to. It was something Natasha had begun to notice about her niece as well. After all, while there was little doubt Nina felt the need to do the right thing and stand up when she saw something was wrong, she still didn't have quite the same kind of drive to fight that the rest of them had. It was like Nadine had said; Nina was almost too innocent to be an Avenger.

It meant this development about her powers had Nina's need to learn what it took to be an Avenger making a lot more sense.

Still, suspected or not, Nina being powered was still a bit of a surprise. Natasha hadn't been sure Strucker had her long enough to really accomplish much or even really start with Nina. Then again, knowing as little as they did of Strucker's experiments thanks to List destroying most of the research before Tony could stop him? Perhaps she shouldn't have been.

As Natasha looked to Pietro, the boy's eyes automatically narrowed, wavering somewhere between suspicion and curiosity. Natasha nearly laughed again.

"Where's your sister? Stark's uniform people are looking for the three of you."

Pietro didn't even have to say anything for Natasha to get her answer.

A flash of red-tinted vapour sped toward the three of them. With a small gasp Nina's hand flew up and the distortion Natasha had seen earlier winked into existence again, more misty in appearance than before. The red vapour skittered and dispersed across the pearlescent barrier.

"You're getting better," Wanda said happily as she all but skipped over, settling on Nina's other side before glancing to Natasha. Natasha couldn't help the astonished look that flashed across her face before she was looking to Nina with consideration.

"What just happened? What did you just do?" The Twins looked proud, Pietro almost smugly so, though there was an adoring glint in his eyes that his sister's gaze didn't have, as Wanda glanced happily at the other girl. Nina flushed, looking pleased despite appearing somewhat self-conscious at the attention.

"As—as best I can figure," she hesitated as she spoke, uncertainty colouring her tone, "it's a shield. I can make, err, combination psychic-telekinetic shields or something like that." It was almost a question. Natasha realized immediately that Nina wasn't entirely sure what it was exactly that she could do. The Twins, though, seemed somewhat more certain.

Pietro broke in, "That's how she saved my life in Sokovia—"

"—and why I couldn't feel him any more when she did," Wanda finished, though her voice wavered at the memory. Her twin reached out to her, clasping her ringed hand tightly. After a moment, she continued, excitement making its way back into her voice. "She can block physical objects, like bullets, as well as my psychic connection to Pietro. It's why I thought he'd been killed; I felt his pain from just as Nina got her shield up and then I felt nothing." Natasha's attention fell back to Nina, her brow furrowing faintly as she processed what she'd just been told, pieces she hadn't realized had been missing falling into place about that day. Nina suddenly looked nervous again, squirming under Natasha's thoughtful yet still astonished gaze. Without even seeming to think about it, the Sokovian boy's arm rose to curl around Nina's shoulders, squeezing gently to provide the reassurance she suddenly needed. A wan yet grateful smile crossed her face as she glanced up at him, letting him tuck her more securely against his side. Pietro leaned over to brush a kiss against the crown of her head. Next to them, Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was no doubt to Natasha that part of the Maximoff sister was pleased by the development. It was a sweet, peaceful little moment. Natasha couldn't help but smile herself as she watched the exchange.

But then the moment broke as Nina looked up to Natasha, looking distinctly worried again.

"What does my mom think about it?" Natasha frowned.

"About the powers or you and Speedy Gonzales, here," she teased in effort to break the tension Natasha could feel growing. Nina's cheeks flamed, Pietro scowled and Natasha couldn't help but chuckle before putting the girl out of her misery. "Honestly? I don't know, sweetie. I imagine she's not totally oblivious about you and your little romance. You two haven't exactly been subtle about it," Natasha pointed out dryly. The pair of them glanced nervously to each other, while Wanda fought and failed to hold back a giggle, earning her a glare from her brother. Natasha grinned, but sobered quickly as Nina's features grew guarded and nervous again before she could say anything about her apparent new powers. A sick sense of disbelief was suddenly growing in Natasha's gut as suspicion suddenly took root in her mind at the signals Nina was giving off.

"You haven't talked to her about it…" Nina winced at the shock in Natasha's voice. "Nina, she thought—thinks it was Pietro's powers and you both jumping in front of Clint that saved you all that day." Nina cringed, her face crumpling. It was answer enough. Natasha nearly gaped at her niece at Nina looked up to her, her blue-grey eyes wide and pleading. It took the redhead a moment to decide precisely what to say.

"Sweetie, I'm not even sure your mom suspects. She knows you're keeping something from her, but she thinks it's either to do with not knowing how to process nearly dying that day or you not knowing what to do next." Nina blanched, but she didn't look convinced. Behind her, Pietro and Wanda exchanged a troubled glance. Natasha sighed heavily, her mind racing.

"She hasn't said anything to me about it. But could she know? She knows everything about Strucker that I do. Possibly more. And she knows everything I did about what he was doing in Sokovia. Has she put together that you likely left that place with powers of your own? Maybe. I did, or at least, I wondered if it was possible. But Nina," she paused, caution purposefully thick in her voice as she fixed Nina with a pointed look, causing her niece to stiffen, "she can be a bit blinded when it comes to you. Has she noticed you're holding something back? Of course she has. Has she put together that you have powers? Does she even suspect? I don't know. But…but it's possible that she hasn't. It's even possible that subconsciously she doesn't want to see it.

"But even if she has? You're going to want to tell her. And you might want to do it soon. The longer you wait, the more she's liable to freak out when she finally finds out if she actually doesn't know." Nina deflated.

"If you do, she probably does," Nina muttered defensively.

"She doesn't," Wanda interrupted softly, not quite seeming to realize she'd spoken aloud until she looked up to see them all looking at her. A faintly apologetic expression came over her face but as she continued her voice was assured. Mostly. "Not as far as I can tell. I'm pretty sure she knows about you two," she gestured between Nina and Pietro, "but about your powers?" She hesitated then, looking decidedly uncertain. "I can't be sure. She's gotten better at guarding her thoughts against me; since Paris, both of you have," she glanced to Natasha with an almost grateful little smile. Natasha couldn't help a small moment of self-congratulation. They'd been working on that. On the way to Paris, she and Nadine had grilled the Sokovian girl on her powers and psychic capabilities as a means to pass the time, the pair of them working with Wanda in trying to discern ways to at least marginally guard their thoughts from her. It was quite satisfying to know something useful had come of it. But then Wanda's grin faded. "But I don't think she knows," she said to Nina. Natasha sighed heavily. Nina made a small, dissenting noise that had Natasha's brow rising incredulously.

"It's my mom," the blonde girl declared, incredulous. "What about me doesn't she know? She knows things about me before I do, Natasha. I'd be very surprised if she doesn't."

"Even if she does, you still need to talk to her about it, Nina," Natasha admonished as gently as she could. Nina deflated once more, but her expression remained conflicted. "It's something she needs to know," the redhead repeated hoping she was getting through to her niece, "sooner rather than later." It was Nina who sighed this time.

"I know," she finally admitted, her voice wavering with uncertainty. But then something subtle shifted in her expression. Nat's eyebrows quirked with surprise at the sudden determined set of Nina's features. Her blue-grey eyes glinted with resolve. "I—I want—Nat, I  _need_  to have it under control when I talk to her. Please. I need to do this my way. It's something  _I_  have to do." Natasha sighed heavily. She couldn't argue with that. Nina was right, after all. If Nadine really didn't know? Nina was old enough that it was her responsibility to tell her mom. It wasn't Natasha's place to do it for her. Not unless she was asked to…and even then… Nina glanced to each of the Twins in turn, dismay clouding her eyes before they dropped to her wringing hands.

"She really doesn't know, does she…" Pietro squeezed her shoulder again and Wanda reached out to untangle Nina's white-knuckled fingers to grasp her friend's hand tightly in her own. Natasha didn't answer. There was no point. Nina knew what her answer would be: probably not.

"She's not going to be happy about it, is she." Nina's voice was almost painfully soft when she finally spoke again. Though worded like one, it wasn't a question.

"Nina—" But Nina's stricken gaze rose to Natasha again, causing her words to falter and her breath to hitch.

"She's always wanted me to be…normal," she murmured dejectedly. Nat sighed.

"Oh,  _solnyshko_ …"

"I mean…What's she going to think? She hates being Enhanced! And if I am…" Natasha started at Nina's observation. Painful as it was to admit, on some level it was true, and Natasha had admittedly been actively avoiding the realization. On some level, Nadine didn't like that she was Enhanced. Natasha wasn't even sure if her sister was aware of it. Sure she liked the Enhancement itself well enough, and not just because it was a useful tool for what she was. But she arguably resented it and how it came about more. Especially considering how the consequences of what had been done to her had spread to encompass and affect Nina too. "What's she going to think of me," Nina whispered, her tone once again thick with miserable uncertainty.

Natasha's heart nearly broke at her niece's tone. She  _knew_  Nina didn't doubt how much her mom loved her, what Nadine was willing to do for her…she couldn't. But she was still so shaken from having one revelation dropped on her after another that her fears were getting the better of her.

"She's wanted you to be  _allowed_  to be normal," Natasha clarified firmly, earning a hopeful yet still skeptical look from the girl. "That's an important distinction, Nina. You've never been 'normal,' no, but she didn't want to take away your chance to grow up with some semblance of a normal life. The kind of childhood, the kind of life she never had. To not have to fight and hide and be on your guard every day of your life." A brittle smile tugged at Nina's lips.

"A hollow dream, apparently," she said softly. Natasha couldn't quite decipher her tone, but there was a distinct sad note to it. But before Natasha could say anything more, Nina was looking up to her with a wan smile.

"At least," Nina added almost bitterly, "if anyone's going to understand the impulse to keep secrets, it'll be my mother." It was only thanks to Natasha's extensive training that she didn't flinch at the blonde girl's tone. As it was, she couldn't quite hide her wince in time. Nina gave her an almost apologetic glance.

But the redhead knew better than to press. A shadow of Nadine shone from Nina's expression and Natasha knew pursuing any further would get her nowhere. Not when that brand of determination was looking back at her from behind Nina's sad, thoughtful features. Natasha grinned faintly, nodding once. Nina's frame relaxed, the steely, intent look on her face easing with relief as she realized Natasha was going to let it go.  _For no_ w, she amended silently. One thing was for certain, though: Nadine had been right that there was more to Nina's wish to take part in Avenger training than they had all suspected.

"Just don't wait too long, Nina," she cautioned softly as she stood. "It's not the kind of secret that keeps well." Her normally sunny features sedate, even haunted, Nina simply nodded.


	75. Chapter 74

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Summer 2015**

Strange as it was to think it, coming back to the Compound felt rather like…coming home. Especially after the trip she'd just come back from. It had been draining, to say the least, but it had been successful to some extent. And only partially as…final for some of the former HYDRA agents she'd gone to meet as Nadine had anticipated. She'd only had to cross off two of the nine she'd gone to meet with, and that was only out of an overabundance of precaution, really. The others had been satisfyingly oblivious. Besides, the names from this part of the list were one and all in prison and abandoned by the remnants of HYDRA anyway, so there was little harm in leaving those she left alive to rot for their crimes.

So overall, while time-consuming and mentally draining, it really had been a dull mission. She'd barely needed to dip into her repertoire of interrogation skills—subtle, manipulative or otherwise—to find out everything she'd needed to know to make her judgement calls. They'd one and all bought the line that she was one of them searching for The Ghost hook, line and sinker.

Hardly exciting.

Setting up a pair of hits inside two different prisons from the outside had been only marginally more interesting. As had the side trips to take care of the intelligence stashes she'd learned two of the former HYDRA heads had left behind. Not to mention the copies she'd taken had potential. For both her missions.

On another note, it was encouraging to confirm that at least a few of her work covers were still intact. She definitely would've been in a tight spot if the identity she'd used and its corresponding identification had been flagged. Not that she'd been truly concerned that it had been; she'd been thorough in checking to be sure 'Michelle Jacobs' was uncompromised before she'd even walked out the door of the Compound.

It was surprisingly good to be back at the Compound, though. Good to embrace her daughter again and hear her talk about the training and testing she'd gone through so far just as she'd used to tell Nadine all about her days at school. Good to see her sister. It was even good to see the Twins, even if her protective instincts were on a hair trigger thanks to the inescapable knowledge that the boy had feelings for her daughter that Nina more than reciprocated. It was good to see Rogers again too, even if part of her thought she was being silly for including him on that list. Either way, she wasn't about to admit that bit to anyone. Especially not Natasha…

They had all certainly been busy since she'd left, though. In the near week and a half since she'd been off on her own mission, Steve had apparently convinced his friend Sam to stick around for a bit as a genuine new Avenger recruit. Further, it seemed Stark's friend, Colonel Rhodes, had also been officially pulled in as a new member. Though, it seemed Rhodes was only going to be around on an as-needed basis rather than a full-time Avenger as Steve and Natasha were. Sam, she'd discovered, was undecided on that front. Though, in talking to him, Nadine suspected his mind was more made up than he realized; for one thing, even though he still had his place in DC, he had all but moved into the Compound. Rhodes, on the other hand, while given his own rooms as well, was obviously not going to be using them regularly, already treating his quarters as a place to stay over, rather than somewhere to live.

Natasha, meanwhile, had been hard at work getting Nina and the Twins—even Vision to a smaller extent—up to speed so they could begin training with the others. When Natasha had apprised Nadine of their progress, the redhead had been unashamedly proud of how they'd all been doing with the preliminary training she'd been putting them through. Even despite her own growing reservations when it came to Nina.

Despite not having quite the same practical experience the Twins had, Nina had been holding her own, the inadvertent spy training regimen Nadine had been putting her through since childhood proving its efficacy. But it seemed Natasha had begun to notice the same hesitation in Nina that Nadine had, suspecting for herself that Nina felt she should be wanting, even needing to train rather than out of any real desire to do so. But she was determined, and Nina was doing her best to rise to the challenges Natasha was putting to her despite her apparent uncertainties. And for that, Nadine was just as proud of her as Natasha.

Alternately, what the Twins didn't have when it came to a more rounded knowledge of the skills Natasha had tested them on, they more than made up for it with practical experience and an eagerness to learn of their own. As Natasha had predicted to some of Nadine's earlier skepticism, their activist activity in Sokovia and their subsequent and admittedly illicit past combined the measure of training provided during their time with Strucker had left them well furnished with useful skills Natasha was certain she could work with and hone further. Both were observant, cleverly insightful and quick thinking—Wanda perhaps a bit more so, abilities aside, in the face of Pietro's inclination for impulsiveness. They also each had a fair grasp of tactical thinking and planning, were competent when it came to skills needed for more covert operations and were quick to grasp the basic weapons training Natasha had insisted on. Not to mention both were more than capable in a fight. Not that they'd really needed testing on that aspect. Overall, the foundations were there according to Natasha, and in looking over her sister's notes, Nadine could admit she was certainly right.

They would be able to hold their own with the rest of the fledgling team, Natasha assured her. Nina included. The redheaded master spy was certain they were ready for a real dose of training. And, despite not entirely wanting to admit it, Nadine was intrigued by the challenge, curious to see how they all measured up for herself. It had taken a concerted effort to keep her sudden influx of ideas for exercises and training scenarios trapped securely behind her teeth as Natasha had shared a few of her own plans, taking the opportunity to run them past Nadine's own sharp mind.

No matter how much she wanted to deny it anymore, she couldn't.

Nadine wanted to be a part of it.

Not as an Avenger—no, she still maintained she wasn't Avenger material—but perhaps as support. She could help, especially on the training side. She had experience instructing, after all; her years as a ballet mistress had been more than just a cover, after all. She could back them up. Maybe. Perhaps.

It was a ridiculous idea, part of her insisted. But Nadine couldn't help but think about it. Consider it.

It had been offered, after all. Sort of.

Since when had she been so indecisive?

Dare she think it, she could actually be of  _use_  here. She had more than enough experience to share. Some of it was bound to be relevant to the new Avengers-in-training. She might not be experienced at playing well with others, but there was still a great deal she could offer.

Especially now that she'd closed up shop.

Her mission had thrown several very pointed and undeniable realizations her way. First was that what she had been doing before that fateful day in Prague wasn't going to be enough anymore. Oh sure, she had still taken a great deal of satisfaction and pride from successfully tracking down her targets and fulfilling her objectives with as minimal risk to herself and her cover as possible, getting in and out without leaving any real trace of her presence—along with dispatching her targets as necessary, of course. Not to mention the thrill that came along with it.

But it just hadn't been the same this time. It had been, somehow…lacking. She supposed it could have been due in part to the relatively low-risk targets she'd been after. As compared to the marks that had made her infamous, at least. But that conclusion didn't quite sit right either.

It simply wasn't as satisfying as it had been before. For all that she'd been as inarguably effective as she was known for—they hadn't even realized she was there when she'd picked off Engel in the prison yard from five hundred yards; child's play, really—her success had, nevertheless, felt hollow.

And lonely. She'd already been on her way back to the Compound when that realization had hit, and it had hit far harder than she'd expected. She'd always worked alone. It was all she'd known for all of her professional life. It was her M.O.. Her process. Her routine. She was a solitary hunter by trade. It was part and parcel of her reputation.

But now that she'd been part of a team? However temporarily? Working alone again had nearly hurt it was so…so unfulfilling. She had missed her sister's sharp tongue and sharper mind; Barton's wry comments and steady judgment; Wanda's determination and sly insights; Rogers' rational approach and steadfast conviction; Thor's easy camaraderie and clear-sighted perceptions; Banner's quiet manner and friendly openness; even Stark's misleadingly irreverent behaviour and snappy quips. She missed the feeling of family, even if she had only been a mere outsider tagging along. At least, at first she had been. Somehow, even despite that horrible Quinjet ride, she'd managed to find a place among the team, and she still didn't quite know how it had happened. She still, somehow, felt welcome. Like she was actually part of the team. An honorary member, even.

Like she belonged with them.

She'd never had that before and she found she  _wanted_  it. Badly.

Would it be so bad to stick around?

She sighed, leaning heavily on her elbows, her hands clasped loosely before her, thumb lightly tracing the creases worn into her uniform's pale grey fingerless gloves, as she looked over from the walkway she stood on to the view before her.

Out beyond the wall of glass on the far side of the hanger, Steve and Stark were passing on their final farewells to Thor. The Asgardian was unable to justify lingering on Earth any longer and had decided the time had finally come to take his leave. He'd even surprised Nadine with a tight hug farewell reminiscent of the one he'd given Natasha before disappearing into the Compound to locate Stark and the Captain.

With a blinding flash of kaleidoscopic rainbow light, the Viking-like Avenger vanished from sight, leaving the soldier and the billionaire alone to meander away toward the garage entrance were Tony's ride undoubtedly waited to take him away too. Supposedly Stark was stepping back from Avenging himself just as Barton had. But Nadine couldn't help but think he'd be back. There was a lingering shadow behind the billionaire's eyes that she recognized; the need to step up, to defend…to atone. It was a trait she had concluded every Avenger seemed to possess in some measure. And if she was being completely honest, one she had too. It was their motivation, their reason for doing what they did.

It was an urge Nadine was coming to recognize within herself. Her work as the Ghost? To go after those who killed purely for profit, who couldn't care less who they were set loose upon so long as it paid well? It had tapped into that urge, she realized now, placating it just enough to keep it quiet in the back of her mind. But now that she'd fought alongside the Avengers? Hunting assassins wasn't going to be enough anymore. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew it was true. She'd realized it back at the Barton farm after Johannesburg whether she'd consciously known it or not.

Not far away, through a set of door and just down a short flight of stairs from the walkway she was standing on, Natasha was talking to Nick Fury. Nadine had passed them when she'd been in search of her current bit of solitude. She had to admit, Nadine had been surprised that Fury hadn't disappeared along with his Helicarrier once he'd let them off at Stark's unfinished Compound. She had honestly expected that he would've gone his own way once the job was done, and that she wouldn't have been surprised to never cross paths with the Spymaster again. Well? In that she had been wrong. Fury, it seemed, was sticking around for at least the time being, lending his own brand of expertise to getting the new Avengers' facility up and running. Sure, he slipped away every now and then for some mysterious purpose known only to him—as was expected, she couldn't help but muse wryly—but he always came back.

And even though he hadn't been the director of anything in well over a year, now, it was obvious that Fury was still effectively the boss in every way that mattered. Especially to Natasha.

It was clear to Nadine in catching a glimpse of the conversation between them, even if she'd been too far away to hear what was being said, that Fury had been more than her little sister's boss. He'd been her mentor. He still was. Possibly even her confidant in some capacity. Definitely her friend; at least, in as much a way as Fury had friends, she suspected. And considering what she had seen of her sister's almost vulnerable demeanor and the nearly gentle way Fury seemed to be speaking, it wasn't much of a leap to make.

Whatever was being said, though, it was something Natasha—while not necessarily pleased to hear it—had needed him to say. And, happy about it or not, her sister's posture had been shifting, relaxing minutely. If Nadine hadn't known her sister so well, even after all these years, she might not even have noticed the change.

She didn't want to lose that. Not again.

Natasha served as an automatic tick in the 'Reasons to Stay' column. A column that was filling up far more quickly than the 'Reasons to Move On' one of her mental list.

"You're still here." It was only thanks to her extensive training that she didn't start at the unexpected sound of Fury's voice behind her, merely tensing instinctively instead. But as she turned to catch sight of his amused smirk, she knew he'd picked up on it anyway.

"So are you," she responded simply. She knew that, now that he'd appeared, she wasn't about to get out of a conversation, so she left it at that. He would get to his purpose eventually. As he came up to stand next to her, she wasn't entirely sure if she was in the mood for a chat with the former director. Even if she was growing somewhat tired of being left alone with her thoughts.

"So I hear Borychenko is missing. Your and Romanoff's handiwork, I presume." Nadine quirked a questioning brow at the former director. That wasn't exactly what she'd expected him to bring up.

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Don't you? Madame B? You do have a history, I hear," he pointed out with poorly disguised interest. Rather unnecessarily too. Nadine restrained the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn't like there was any doubt that he didn't know.

"Is there anything you don't hear," she countered dryly. Fury chuckled.

"Can't say I was surprised," he continued, ignoring her comment. "Nasty piece of work, that woman. Only met her twice. It was two times too many, really. But for all her faults, she was one of the best in her field." Nadine hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing despite privately sharing that opinion. It wasn't like she could deny it. From an objective standpoint? Madame B had been effective. She had gotten results, no matter what she'd been doing, be it as a top tier KGB/HYDRA agent or in training Red Room recruits. Besides, one had to play along with Fury when he was running the show. And one thing Nadine had figured out almost the instant she'd met him was that, when Fury was involved, he was  _always_  running the show.

"And now you're going after Barnes?" Once again, it wasn't actually a question, and Nadine let him know that she saw as much with a pointed look. He merely smirked. "That one'll be a lot harder task altogether."

"Of that I am well aware," she replied coolly.

"Gonna lend a hand around here while you're on it?" She narrowed her eyes at him in lieu of answering. His smirk widened into an outright grin.

"Thought so." Nadine only barely restrained a scowl. It was awfully presumptive of him to assume that she had to stay at the Compound in order to find Barnes. She could manage perfectly well elsewhere. It wasn't like staying was a prerequisite for tapping into the Avengers' resources; she could pop in whenever she needed to. Some of them she was fairly certain she could access remotely. Hell, Stark might even set her up with a mobile workstation if she asked nicely enough.

It was completely beside the point that part of her wanted to stay; he couldn't know that anyway.

Well, she imagined her sister knew, so he might.

Instead she allowed herself to ignore the comment in favour of needling the spymaster instead. Not that she believed it would actually get to him. But it made her feel a little better.

"You know, in all this? I still find it hard to believe the Winter Soldier missed you in the first place."

"Oh, he didn't miss. I just wasn't ready to kick it just yet. Plus, I had a world-class set of doctors on call to patch me up." She couldn't help herself. A scoffing huff of a laugh escaped her at the comment.

"That's all you're going to offer? He is a legend, and for good reason: The Winter Soldier has never failed a mission…until you."

"Well…the argument could be made that he didn't fail. I did die." The look she gave him in response made it clear how utterly unconvinced she was.

"Faking your death doesn't count, Fury." He actually had the audacity to chuckle before he countered.

"Doesn't it? And I was referring to the fact that I did technically die on the table—twice—so you could say, his reputation is still, in fact, intact."

"Tricky bastard," she muttered. He laughed and, despite herself, Nadine couldn't help but smile in response.

"Thank you. It's why I'm the best, Ryker." She scoffed in disdain, but it was clear that her heart wasn't in it. Fury just smiled, his eye glinting knowingly. With a nod, he stepped back from the railing, evidently finished with the conversation. A conversation Nadine still wasn't entirely sure of the purpose. Until he paused for one final comment.

"They could use a consultant like you, Ryker. And you could use the support of a team, I think. Even if you aren't strictly an Avenger." She straightened in surprise, staring at his retreating back in astonishment. Huh. Sometimes he could speak plainly, it seemed.

With another soft, huffing chuckle, she retreated from her spot next to the railing, retracing her steps through the Compound to where she had seen her sister speaking with Fury earlier. As she reached the stairs leading down to the corridor to the hanger, ideas were already beginning to flit through her thoughts—plans, exercises, scenarios—everything she had forced herself to keep from blurting out when she'd been talking to Natasha about—

She froze, right there in the middle of the corridor despite the other people bustling past, the realization only then hitting her.

She really had made up her mind, hadn't she.

Before she could help herself, she was grinning to herself, a warm feeling growing in her chest that she could only describe as excitement. Even, dare she think it, happiness.

She was going to stay.

As her feet started moving again, a pair of familiar voices directly ahead of her caught her attention. As she made her way along the corridor toward them, Rogers and her sister had walked into view, both of them looking to the tablet in Natasha's hand as the Captain spoke.

"They're not the '27 Yankees."

"But we've got some hitters," Natasha absently countered. Agreeing, Steve nodded. Nadine adjusted her stride to catch them even as Rogers replied.

"They're good. They're not a Team," he pointed out. A trace of an eager smirk appeared on Natasha's face as she lowered the tablet.

"Let's beat 'em into shape." She glanced up then as Nadine fell into step beside her, a smirk of her own rising to her lips.

"Mind if I help?" Natasha's smirk widened impishly, her eyes shining.

"You're gonna stay?" As was to be expected, it was said as though it was a foregone conclusion, but Nadine could easily hear the genuinely hopeful question beneath it. She nodded once, smiling happily at the way her little sister's face lit up.

"I heard you could use a training consultant," Nadine said. Behind Natasha, Steve looked pleased, the expression sending a strangely pleasant little flutter loose in Nadine's belly. Natasha glanced to her teammate. Reaching across in front of the redhead, Steve extended his hand to Nadine. Without hesitation, she took it, warmth joining the flutter as his hand closed securely around hers.

"Welcome to the Team," he said before pausing to exchange a nearly sly glance with her sister. "Even if it is unofficially." Unable to help herself, Nadine laughed.

Dropping her hand, the Captain lengthened his stride, pulling just ahead of the two sister spies. Still grinning widely, Natasha reached over to squeeze Nadine's hand.

"I knew you'd stick around," she quipped confidently. Nadine snickered.

"Of course you did," the blonde assassin threw dryly back. The younger spy simply quirked a brow in challenge and lengthened her own stride to catch up with Rogers as he approached the set of doors directly ahead that lead to the hanger. Following suit, Nadine fell into step on Steve's right just as he pushed them open.

Stepping out onto the landing, she saw the new Avengers were already gathering on the open floor of the hanger. Sam—Falcon, Nadine reminded herself—stood directly ahead of her, already outfitted in his new, Stark-upgraded EXO-7 pack. As she looked around to the others, she noted they were all outfitted in their new—for most of them—Avenger-worthy uniforms. Rhodes, of course, was already outfitted in his War Machine suit while Vision naturally had his suit and cape already taken care of. It was the other three who really caught her attention.

In the middle of the pack stood the Maximoffs; Wanda outfitted in a lightly, but subtly armoured jacket-like bodice in rich scarlet tones and Pietro in a similarly lightly armoured charcoal-coloured uniform reminiscent of his typical runner's garb, complete with dusky blue and silvery accents that mimicked the bluish aura that followed him at speed.

But it wasn't the Twins that truly caught her attention.

Standing next to Pietro in a uniform of her own was Nina. A fierce pride was suddenly mingled with a healthy dose of uncertainty in the centre of Nadine's chest. But for all that she was visibly nervous, Nina still stood tall in a boldly blocked off-white and pale blue catsuit and subtly armoured matching jacket not wholly unlike a mix of Nadine's own and the one Wanda wore. In that moment, nerves aside, her daughter looked every inch a confident, capable young woman. For a split-second Nadine nearly couldn't breathe.

And it struck her just how right it felt to be where she was. This really was where she needed to be.

Just ahead of her, Steve came to a stop, Nadine and Natasha each falling in on either side of him, the redhead's hands clasping loosely behind her back while Nadine's crossed over her chest. Her neutral, impassive mask once again firmly in place, she surveyed the six recruits before her, sparing her daughter a quick wink. Nina beamed back, her eyes shining with determined anticipation.

As Steve's voice rang out to address their recruits, Nadine exchanged a fleeting glance with Natasha, an answering smirk rising to her lips at the wicked grin that appeared on her sister's face.

It was time to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. The actual, 100% official end to events from AoU and the close of Part I of The Ghost. Meaning we are now officially on to Part II next time and with it into the interim between AoU and Civil War! Yay! I'm excited! Are you?


	76. Part II: Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II
> 
> Summary
> 
> To say Nadine Ryker's life changed drastically when Nadine's secrets began to unravel was an understatement. No longer a lone assassin, living solely to preserve her daughter's safety and happiness, among the Avengers she found her sister, friends and, if not a cause, people she had come to believe in.
> 
> People she had come to trust.
> 
> And, perhaps among them, a certain Captain she might even be able to love?
> 
> Until, of course, the drastic upheaval that looms on the horizon and the re-emergence of shadows from all their pasts threaten to bring the life she'd managed to rebuild crashing down.
> 
> And The Ghost might just have to emerge once again.

**Barton Home, USA**

**Fall 2015**

If Nadine was being completely honest with herself, she was struggling a bit. Not in any real, serious way, which was actually a bit of a novelty, but it was still unsettling.

When she had been in training, free time had been a distant dream. A luxury they had never known in the Red Room. They'd had illusions of it, but in reality every waking moment had been bent toward a purpose. Their 'free time' should have more accurately been called 'free study' given the expectation that they use the time for activities that contributed to their training in some way; studying popular magazines and books to acclimatize them to places where they might be called on to blend in; activities involving memory games, logic puzzles and the like intended to exercise and strengthen their minds; reading books assigned by Madame B or one of their other instructors. Activities in that vein. Nothing that was leisure purely for leisure's sake. While incidentally enjoyable for the most part, none of it was intended for enjoyment.

But now? She wasn't a young recruit anymore. Why shouldn't she be allowed some down time? The past few weeks really had been productive, after all. Training had been going quite well, their new team members coming along quite nicely under Natasha's near unforgiving drive and Nadine's exacting eye. Nicely enough that Rhodey and Sam were both effectively 'done' training, so to speak, and only really needed to show up for the teambuilding exercises and the odd small mission Steve and Nat had needed the support on that the younger members weren't quite ready for.

Nadine had even been on another—successful, thank you—mission of her own, taking care of another significant chunk of her threat list. Only three from that list had needed more permanent precautions enacted to ensure their silence, and two of the other names had led her to another HYDRA head's intelligence stash, which she had promptly copied and destroyed. All in all, it meant that Nadine was feeling rather satisfied with her progress on that front.

And on the front of her other search? A little less productive, admittedly, but she was fairly sure she was making some headway. She was pretty certain she had Barnes' route mapped from the day he left DC up until about two weeks after she suspected he'd reached Europe, hitting a few roadblocks in Georgia. It was further than she knew she would've gotten in the same amount of time without the Avengers' unmatched resources, but it was still frustrating.

For the most part, though, she'd stuck pretty close to home. And the Compound had, bewilderingly enough, begun to feel like home. Not that she'd admitted as much to anyone, yet. She'd barely even admitted it to herself. But she'd breathe an inadvertent sigh of relief whenever she returned there, and it almost felt like she walked a little lighter, a little more comfortably through the halls of the Avengers' Facility than she had even in her and Nina's little apartment in Vienna, or their place in Hamburg before that. She had nearly managed to convince herself that it was simply an unconscious reaction to the top-notch security of the facility and the presence of the Avengers; that she could relax simply because she didn't have to be on her guard all the time there. Not to mention that it was where her family was; just knowing her daughter and her sister were close by was reassuring to say the least.

But comfortable as she had become at the facility, and welcomed as she'd felt, she had yet to be idle. Every minute had been bent to a purpose, much as it had all those years ago. Some masqueraded as moments of leisure—her time with Nina in the evenings, for instance, were often bent toward studying or working toward strengthening their fragile relationship—but Nadine had always been  _doing_ something that counted as productive.

Not like now. Not like the break they had taken from training at the Compound.

As nice as it was to visit the Barton homestead again? Between the nagging sense that the conversation was eventually going to turn to topics she'd be more comfortable leaving alone—while no longer entirely secret in her present company, they weren't ones Nadine was overly fond of talking about—and the antsy feeling that she should be doing something, the blonde assassin had begun absently wondering if it would've been wiser to stay behind at the Compound while Natasha, Nina and the Twins made their visit. She could have settled in and gotten some more work done on her different tracking projects in relative solitude.

Well, it was too late to do anything about it now, at any rate. Not to mention the fact that Natasha had given her no opportunity to even try and reason her way out of it. And she was admittedly enjoying the break even if her long ingrained habits against inactivity weren't leaving her alone.

Even if Barton did have a rather mischievous look growing in his eye as he glanced to her.

"So are you going to stick around?" Nadine was nearly tempted to roll her eyes. As if he didn't know the answer already…

"Everyone keeps asking that," she evaded, exasperation threading her tone. "Natasha, Rogers, the Twins, Hill, Fury…even Thor asked before he left." Barton grinned.

"Well, everyone's curious what the Ghost is going to do next. No one's quite sure. You're good at disappearing, but you don't exactly have a reason to disappear anymore." She glanced to him, her eyes narrowing in challenge.

"Don't I?"

"Not like you did. Your secrets are either safe, known by people you trust enough to keep them or simply not important enough to worry about anymore."

"And the fact that I'm a wanted criminal?" Barton actually barked out a laugh.

"C'mon, Ryker. You really expect me to believe you're worried about getting caught?" Her nose wrinkled even as she fought back a chuckle at his reaction. He did have a point, after all, and not just about her concern about being arrested. Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure if he was right, but she found she rather wanted him to be. Next to Clint, Laura retook her seat at the end of the table on Nadine's left, setting a glass of lemonade in front of her husband. Shooting Nadine a fondly exasperated look as she did, the brunette could only shake her head as she took a sip from her own glass. Nadine bit back another chuckle, working instead on maintaining her purposefully annoyed expression. It didn't entirely work, and Nadine truthfully didn't really care.

"Well, we were all happy to hear that you'd decided to stay," Laura added kindly, pointedly putting an end to her husband's teasing even as Clint began grinning mischievously again at Nadine from across the table. Nadine shot her a grateful smile.

"I think Nina's certainly happy about it," he added impishly, glancing over to where the kids and the three Avenger trainees sat in the next room. Nadine scowled.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Nadine scowled as Natasha dropped back into the seat on her other side, pushing a refilled glass of lemonade into her sister's hands as she smirked. "Nina's not the only one happy she's staying." Both Natasha and Barton looked entirely too entertained by the announcement, the two of them looking nearly conspiratorial as they each met the other's eye. Laura looked similarly amused by the statement, though she kept it to herself far better. The other two weren't even trying.

"Does that mean you and Cap are back on good terms?" The mischievous glint in his eyes belied the near innocent way Barton asked it. Next to him, Laura placed a gently restraining hand on his forearm, catching Nadine's eye with a sympathetic expression before pointedly rolling her eyes at her husband and friend's not quite subtle probing.

"They're getting there," Natasha answered before Nadine had even opened her mouth. She levelled an exasperated look at her little sister. Natasha just smiled sweetly back. Barton stifled a chuckle, but couldn't quite manage to hold back his smug grin.

"It's going slowly," Nadine added, still eying her sister, wary of further interruptions and ignoring their ridiculous insinuations. "I burned him pretty badly with my secrets."

"I hope he's coming around," Clint commented, earning a narrow-eyed look from the blonde assassin. He met it without hesitation. Sensing that he wasn't going to budge if she decided to argue the point, Nadine didn't bother. Instead she settled for letting him know what she thought of the comment with her expression alone. Clint's smirk deepened while even Laura was biting back a grin.

The four adults lapsed into silence, Clint heeding the gently chiding look from his wife to stop teasing Nadine. It was only after several minutes of listening to the laughter and cheerful chattering from the living room that someone finally decided to speak.

Clint nodded absently in the direction of the living room before looking back to Nadine. "How's Nina doing?" Nadine didn't answer right away, looking toward the other room herself as she turned the question over in her head. She knew he wasn't referring to how she was getting on with the training.

"Well enough, all things considered," she finally said, looking back to the Bartons. Clint nodded, but there was something in the way he was watching her that had her faltering. He'd picked up on the reservation she hadn't quite been able to hide from her voice. He'd picked up that she was worried about Nina. And judging by the similarly considering look on Laura's face? The archer's wife had noticed too. Nearly before she could stop herself, the confession just spilled out.

If it hadn't felt so good to let it out, to share it, she might have been confounded at the way her control faltered.

"Something's…something's bothering her, but she won't talk to me," Nadine said, her voice painfully small. "Not like she used to. On the surface, everything seems fine. But I just can't help this feeling…" Barton sighed, while Laura laid a comforting hand on her arm, squeezing gently in encouragement. Sympathetic concern had appeared in her sister's eyes even as Natasha's face went carefully blank. "And…and I'm worried. She hasn't once tried to talk about our old lives, about not being able to go back. She hasn't asked about school—she was so excited about university…and she hasn't mentioned it at all since Sokovia. And now she's so determined to go through with this Avenger training…I just—I don't know." Her fingers had tightened around her glass, and Nadine had to consciously will them to loosen lest she crack it. She exhaled sharply, internally berating herself for bringing down the mood. No one spoke for a long moment, neither of the Bartons nor Natasha quite knowing how to respond right away.

"She had a huge shock, Ryker. More than one, really. And not one of them easy to process, I think. Not only did she find out about the Ghost, but she was forced to realize that you…that you're human." Nadine started, turning wide-eyed to Clint as he finally broke the silence. He met her gaze. "She's realized that you've made mistakes—some pretty big ones, at that, even if she doesn't know what they are—that you had a past before her, and that you feel fear. That's a big deal for any kid, but especially for Nina, I bet. I rather doubt she's ever actually seen you afraid before, not until Sokovia. That's a huge blow. She's trying to reconcile all that with the unflappable mother she's known her whole life."

"How do you know I was unflappable," she countered weakly. "You didn't know me that well." Clint grinned. Next to her, Laura chuckled while on her other side Nat smiled fondly as she met Clint's eye, her carefully blank expression melting away. Barton grinned back before turning his wry gaze back to Nadine.

"Because I know Nat. And I know me." He sobered, taking a deep, bracing breath as he lined up his thoughts. "People like us? Parents never want their kids to see them afraid, or uncertain or wrong. Add to that what we are? What we do for a living? The fact that we already have to hide so much of who and what we are from them to keep them safe and protected. To keep them happy and innocent for as long as we can? That impulse only gets stronger." Nadine sighed. She couldn't deny that he was right; she'd been living with that reality longer than he had. Next to her, Laura shifted, absently squeezing her arm again in sympathy.

"Maybe," she said gently, pausing for a moment to measure her words as Clint had before taking up where her husband left off, "maybe you did try a little too hard. Maybe you kept Nina in the dark for too long. Maybe your efforts to spare her and protect her innocence at how bad the world can be were a little too effective. Or maybe that's exactly what got her through. I don't know." She glanced around to Clint and Nat, the archer steadily meeting his wife's eye before nodding slowly in agreement while Natasha watched her sister, her own expression unreadable. Laura glanced back to Nadine, a kind smile on her face before turning thoughtful again. "I don't think any of us can know. But either way, now she's having to get used to a whole lot real fast."

"I know," Nadine murmured after Laura had fallen silent, not caring how suddenly tired she sounded. She'd been wondering as much almost since the moment Nina was taken. She had prepared her in some ways, yes…but in her efforts to protect Nina's happiness, perhaps she didn't prepare her enough either.

Hindsight certainly stung when it landed a hit.

"But," Laura smiled as she glanced over to Nina where she sat with the Twins and the Barton children in the living room, "everything you did, you did with the best intentions. And from what little I've seen of your daughter? She has a gentle soul, Nadine. A gentle, compassionate soul. She'll understand. And she'll forgive. It's just going to take time." Nadine could only nod, her throat closing up with emotion. She hoped more than she could say that Laura was right. She'd been trying to convince herself as much since she had sat down with Nina about her secrets. In his chair, Barton shifted, obviously weighing a question before deciding to let it out.

"Have you…have you tried asking her about it? Whatever it is she's keeping from you?" Nadine almost violently shook her head at the question.

"No. One thing I've learned in my line of work—and something I've learned raising a teenager—is that it's sometimes best not to pry. That it's best to wait and let them come—let Nina come to me. Whatever it is? Worried as I might be about what it's about? I can't. Her trust has already been shaken enough by my secrets, Barton.

"So no. As much as I'd like to, I won't push her. Not yet. She already has enough to come to terms with. When she's ready to tell me what's bothering her, I will listen. But I won't force her to confide in me. Not now." Laura bit back a chuckle, earning a questioning glance from her husband and a quirked eyebrow from Natasha. Nadine could only frown, confused by the reaction.

"Well," she said, meeting Nadine's gaze with a twinkle of amusement in her dark eyes, "you're probably better equipped to judge than we are." When Nadine's confused frown deepened and matching ones began to grow on Natasha and Clint's faces, Laura's grin widened as she gestured absently between herself and her husband. "We haven't graduated to teenagers quite yet."

Nadine couldn't help herself. A short, huffing laugh bubbled up from her chest followed by another. Laura grinned as the three spies around her chuckled and snorted at her bid to lighten the mood, almost smugly satisfied that her gamble worked.

As the laughter eased, Clint looked to Nadine, visibly relieved even if his expression still held a trace of worry. That expression alone let her know what was coming next.

"You don't think that, maybe… Finding out about…" he hesitated, clearing his throat before continuing, "how did she take hearing about, err…everything." Nadine couldn't help it. She tensed at the question, but was immediately forcing herself to relax, forcing back her long-ingrained instincts to shut down. She probably shouldn't have been surprised that he'd consider the possibility of a correlation there. She'd been wondering about it too.

"What she heard, she took as well as I could've hoped," she finally answered softly, looking up to the Bartons. Clint sighed, but he looked like he understood. Laura, on the other hand, couldn't quite hide that she was confused, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced between Clint and the two female spies.

"Everything…you mean about your—your secrets? Your identity as The Ghost?" Nadine nodded in response to the softly spoken questions.

"And about why…why she was targeted," Nadine added softly. The furrow over Laura's brow deepened as her expression grew thoughtful. A brittle smile tugged at Nadine's lips. Laura wanted to ask why—it was written all over her face and posture—but she was politely restraining the urge. Nadine's found her respect for the brunette rising yet again at the realization. She was a good friend.

And that realization alone nearly had her smiling despite the anxious fluttering beginning to grow in her gut. She genuinely considered Laura—and Clint, she automatically added—as a friend. She had  _real_  friends. It was certainly a novel feeling. It was a pleasant feeling.

But as pleasant a realization as it was, the feeling dimmed as she focused on the questioning expression Laura wore and the sympathetic one on her sister's face. So Clint had kept the most precious of her secrets from even his wife. A rush of gratitude toward the archer surged through her. Only to realize that she didn't mind the idea of Laura knowing. Nadine sighed.

"You know I'm Enhanced?" Laura nodded despite them both knowing full well she already knew the answer. Nadine nearly grinned at the memory of sharing that detail of her life with the other woman, the light-hearted moment quite possibly when part of Nadine had decided Laura was to be her friend. "Well, Nina inherited some of it from me. The man who ordered her abduction? He wanted her because of her parentage." Laura nodded absently before a thought suddenly struck her. Her frown deepened and her gaze sharpened as she looked to Nadine.

"Parentage? You mean—" She cut herself off as Nadine tensed again, this time unable to counter the inadvertent reaction before the other three noticed. "I'm sorry. Nadine, I—it's none of my business. You don't have to explain," the brunette hurried to amend. But Nadine slowly shook her head, looking up to Laura. On her other side, Natasha laid a comforting hand on her arm, squeezing gently. But strangely enough, she didn't mind. Not really. She was beginning to truly realize the burden eased when she could share it with others she knew wouldn't betray her trust.

"No. It's okay," Nadine said softly, nevertheless hesitating despite the assurance. It was an odd feeling, to actually feel alright with the idea of confiding aspects of her past with those she trusted…to actually feel like she had people she could trust. Naturally she trusted her sister, but she'd also come to trust Clint and surprisingly she found herself just as willing to trust Laura for all that she barely knew the woman. She wasn't honestly sure if she did yet, but she wanted to. And so she decided to trust the Barton matriarch just as she trusted her sister and Barton himself.

She spared a quick glance to ensure they weren't in danger of being overheard. "You've…you've heard of the Winter Soldier, I assume?" Cautiously, Laura nodded, her gaze worried but curious and infinitely patient, something Nadine appreciated to no end. "He was involved in my and Natasha's training and…well…" She bit back a heavy sigh, checking again to ensure that Nina was still out of hearing range before turning back to the Bartons.

But she really didn't need to say anything more. Laura was a sharp woman, and the apparent non sequitur followed by Nadine's barely concealed and anxious glance to Nina, plus whatever small details she'd gleaned from her husband and Natasha? Especially considering what Nadine had just segued the conversation away from? Straightening slightly, Laura met Nadine's eye before glancing significantly to Nina, her eyebrows rising in silent question. Nadine could only nod, a lump forming in her throat.

"She doesn't know," Nadine managed to choke out, her voice barely more than a whisper. The brunette let out a soft, gusting breath, meeting her husband's eye for a moment.

"And that's why this Strucker character took her? Because of who you are and…" she trailed off pointedly.

"Because of who her father is, yes," Nadine continued just as quietly, confirming Laura's line of thought. Laura met Clint's sombre gaze again for a moment.

"Oh, wow," she murmured sadly. Nadine could only nod in agreement, and before she knew it, what had happened all those years before was spilling past her lips.

"They, umm…I was enlisted to help…maintain him. What they'd done to him, to his head, his mind to make him the 'perfect agent'? Well, they believed him to be sub-human; no longer capable of feeling or free will. But he was still…still affected by more  _biological_  impulses," she said, her voice scathing as she paraphrased what Madame B had told her at the time. "I'd refused…but that didn't suit our training mistress' plans. So she…she took steps to make sure it happened anyway.

"And I played right into it." Both the Bartons' looked stricken as Nadine's bitter voice fell silent, Clint's just as much as Laura's despite knowing to some degree what had happened already. As Laura processed what Nadine had revealed, her head slowly began to shake, and it became obvious that she had no idea how to respond.

"I—Nadine, that's…I'm so sorry," she finally murmured. Nadine shrugged, unable to meet any one of their eyes. Instead she stared sightlessly at the glass in front of her, her fingers absently turning and nudging the nearly empty cup in the small pool of condensation that had gathered below it.

"It was a long time ago," she brushed off, glancing up at the brunette. Only to notice Clint frowning next to his wife, his features thoughtful as he watched Nadine playing with her glass. Automatically, her fingers stilled. He looked up to her.

"What I don't understand is why you even got pregnant in the first place," he asked softly, continuing before Natasha could voice the dry comment they could all practically hear her spooling up to say. "I mean, considering what little I know about that place? The way Nat's implied that they micromanaged everything? I'd have thought they'd…take precautions," he finished with an awkward grimace. Nadine couldn't help but grin at his discomfort. But it was Natasha who answered, her voice emotionless and resigned.

"Well, considering that any graduating Red Room Recruits are all ultimately sterilized?" Immediately Clint winced, looking almost desperately apologetic at the reminder as he glanced up to his best friend. Natasha shook her head, shooting him a wan grin that indicated it was already forgiven. He didn't look overly reassured, but he let it go. Nadine shrugged again. She hadn't wanted to say anything without knowing how much Natasha had shared with the Bartons, but clearly that was one thing her little sister had shared.

"I was close enough to Graduation that they didn't see the need to concern themselves with that, I suppose," she picked up, drawing Laura and Clint's attention away from Natasha. Her sister shot her a fleeting look of gratitude. "Besides, it was a development that worked out alright for our training mistress." Clint tensed in his seat, his hand inadvertently tightening where it rested across his wife's shoulders as his gaze grew intent. He'd obviously put it together. And Laura looked just as alarmed even if she was slightly more in the dark.

"She's the one…" the archer's voice faltered, anger and disbelief mingling in his tone. Nadine nodded in confirmation. Clint only barely kept his features from twisting in fury as he understood the implications. Laura glanced between her husband and the two sisters, her face screwed up in thought as she came to the same conclusion a moment later. Nadine saw the instant she understood.

"Yeah," the blonde assassin confirmed bitterly, "she was the one who sold me out to HYDRA. Who sold both of us out." She let out a long, slow breath, forcing back her lingering anger at the woman when it threatened to overtake her again. "First she wanted me gone, and then she wanted Nina for her program…and when she couldn't get what she wanted, she gave my daughter to Strucker."

"She's the one you both went after." Two sets of sharp eyes—one set vibrant green, the other cool grey—were suddenly fixed on the archer. "When I called you to watch the kids. The mission; you went after her? Your training mistress?" Natasha was the one to confirm it, nodding only once. Nadine simply stared at him, her face unreadable. Clint's features hardened at the answer while, next to him, Laura's face grew serious, mingled concern and interest shining in her eyes as she realized what he was talking about. The archer's eyes flicked between the two female spies, his voice quiet and dispassionate when he finally continued.

"And you took care of her?" The answer was clear on Nadine's face as she met his gaze, the corner of her lip lifting. It was a harsh expression.

"Permanently."

"Good." Nadine raised a questioning eyebrow at Laura, her harsh expression easing, but the brunette met the assassin's gaze evenly. The look in her eyes was one Nadine knew intimately; no one messed with their children.

Off in the living room the light mood and cheerful laughter from those children were utterly apart from the heavy topic that had been brought up in the kitchen. Nina had little Nate in her lap while Wanda flew toys around him carried by pale wisps of red. Pietro was chuckling as he settled next to them, Lila hanging off his back, chattering excitedly about how fast they'd been going even as Cooper asked if he could have a turn.

It was such a wonderful, innocent, ordinary scene for all its extraordinary details.

Suddenly craving the lightness that the living room held, Nadine spared the other three adults a wan grin before standing from the table. Mercifully, they let her go without a word. It was beginning to feel like her insides were quivering with the effort from keeping her emotions in check without shutting down altogether, her memories and worries trying to emerge to torment her.

But as she walked around the end table to where the three Barton children were being entertained by their new friends, the tense feeling in her gut melted away as Nina looked up to her with a smile. Next to her Lila laughed at the way Wanda's powers were tickling her nose in good-natured retribution for a cheeky comment. And in her daughter's lap, little Nate grinned a delighted gummy grin, his chubby fists flailing happily, too young to understand what was going on, but reacting to the cheerful atmosphere nonetheless.

With a smile of her own, Nadine swooped in, plucking the smiling baby from Nina's hold. A smile that only grew as he wiggled happily, his pudgy little fingers grasping enthusiastically at her pale hair. Feeling the last of the tension that lingered from the serious topic she'd left behind in the kitchen disappear with each cheerful coo from the squirming baby in her arms, Nadine held little Nate closer, tapping his nose with the tip of her finger.

"C'mon,  _Tolya_. I'm rescuing you from these overgrown children."

A peal of giggles from the infant boy filled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Part II! And what a way to kick off, with visit to the Barton farm.
> 
> Don't you just love them? C: I know I do!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you're all enjoying!


	77. Chapter 2

**Barton Home, USA**

**Fall 2015**

Honestly? Natasha was still a little surprised that Nadine had come along to the Bartons' with as little objection as she had.

She knew her sister was still adjusting to the idea that she was, for all intents and purposes, free from the life she'd had before Prague. Nadine was still getting used to the idea that she didn't need to look over her shoulder every second of the day anymore, or the idea that she was no longer beholden to anyone; that she was free to do as she pleased. That, deny it as she might, she wasn't even strictly obligated to Steve or the mission he'd settled on her to find Barnes. Not really. As much as he was relying on her to find Bucky, Natasha knew that, were Nadine to express a wish to move on, Steve wouldn't hold it against her. He'd be disappointed, sure, but now that he'd gotten to know her? Now that he'd learned more about her past? Natasha suspected he would understand if Nadine were to ever express the desire to leave that part of her life behind for good.

Not that Natasha could ever see that happening. She might consider leaving the Compound, but Nat didn't believe for a moment that Nadine would voluntarily give up on her search for Barnes if she did. Not considering how long she'd been looking.

The idea that Nadine would want to search for him on her own hadn't really been all that much of a surprise. It was more just how long she'd been working on finding him that Natasha hadn't expected. That Nadine had been already been looking for him? That she'd been searching almost from the moment she'd run? And just how much work she'd been putting into her search! The risks she had taken by actively chasing the Winter Soldier? Natasha had been all but transfixed by the spread Nadine had set up in her Workshop and the sheer amount of material she'd managed to scrounge up. It hadn't been just a casual project.

Not by a long shot.

But then, very little her sister did was casually done. She threw herself into everything she set herself to, be it finding Barnes or as the self-proclaimed training consultant she was serving as at the Compound.

No one was spared when Nadine was in charge. Not that the training in general was easy—Natasha pushed her charges just as hard, her exacting standards nearly pushing Wanda to snap at her new mentor over the pressure the week before—but Nadine had a gift for pushing those under her tutelage to just shy of their breaking point. Aches and pains and bruises were commonplace after one of her training session. Not even Natasha was spared, the younger sister spy coming out of the sessions with aches and pains of her own that she hadn't had in longer than she cared to admit. And she was an instructor herself!

But Nadine was getting results, and her pupils were, under the blonde assassin's high standards and punishing pace, thriving.

It seemed Madame B had indeed been onto something when she'd pegged Nadine as a threat to her position; Nadine would have been utterly formidable had she gone on to take over the Red Room programme as their former training mistress had feared.

And it wasn't just the Avengers recruits taking advantage of her knowledge anymore. Since she started taking over instructing their three young recruits in hand to hand and weapons training, more and more of the Compound's agents and general personnel had been trickling into the training area to watch, some of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents looking like they were mentally taking notes.

It had gotten to the point where, just a few days ago, Nadine had started pulling them into the lessons as well, having as little interest in an audience as two of her pupils did—not surprisingly, Pietro wasn't bothered by an enthralled and awed crowd. And naturally, she hadn't gone easy on her conscripts either. It was not uncommon at the moment for limps, sore muscles and bruises to be spotted all over the Compound. But interest in the sessions had not waned in the slightest. It had become worth the chance of being pulled onto the mats just to watch. Not that the physical punishment was anything but worth it itself.

That and there had been a rather impressive face-off between Nadine and Maria Hill as a demonstration that Natasha had caught the tail end of the other day. Her sister had come away on top, as Natasha expected, but Hill hadn't made it easy. A fact her sister had enjoyed, Natasha recalled happily, remembering the exhilarated flush on her sister's cheeks and the pleased warmth in her normally cool grey eyes. Fury, who had been the one to hold Natasha up that day, keeping her from the beginning of the unscheduled match, had merely looked to Natasha with a smug expression. One that Nat had answered with an exasperated but pleased smirk of her own.

And Nadine was enjoying herself. That was something else Natasha was certain of. Nadine was enjoying her role as a consulting instructor at the Compound. She was enjoying the chance to teach what she knew and to teach what she was good at. Just seeing Nadine as she praised Wanda when the Sokovian had finally caught onto a trick for changing hands in weapons training she'd been struggling with, or coaching Nina when the younger blonde's stance faltered because of how she kept landing on her back foot told Natasha as much. Loud and clear. She was certainly enjoying it far more than she had being a ballet instructor. And Natasha had gotten the impression that Nadine had become rather fond of that role as well.

But there was still a wariness to her sister that had Natasha concerned. Like the blonde assassin was waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting for the moment when it would all inevitably end.

The one thing Natasha was nervous about? Despite knowing better? Despite knowing how much Nadine had come to enjoy being at the Compound? She feared that, if Nina no longer  _had_  to be at the Compound, Nadine would leave despite how much she might actually want to stay. That Nina was the only thing really keeping Nadine here.

It was an irrational fear, of course. Natasha knew better. She got the feeling that Nadine felt at home in the Compound—whether Nadine had realized as much or not, yet—and that it was something the blonde assassin wasn't going to give up easily. Not if she was anything like Natasha in that regard. Besides, Nat knew Nina wasn't the only thing keeping her sister at the Compound. She knew Nadine stayed for her too, their relationship proving every bit as precious to both of them as it had been when they were children. More so, even. Easily. Nadine wasn't about to abandon her. Not again. Natasha was confident about that. It reassured her a great deal, really.

More than that, Natasha knew Nadine felt like she had a purpose here, one that transcended everything they had both been raised to believe themselves capable or even deserving of. Natasha had believed she'd found hers when she'd found S.H.I.E.L.D., only to truly find it, to truly  _believe_  it, when she'd embraced her place among the Avengers. Well, Nadine was finding that now. She'd had her first tastes when Nina had been born, her baby girl giving the blonde assassin a purpose beyond herself. But now that Nina was all but grown? Nadine was finding that she could have a purpose that was all her own. One that wasn't dependent on someone else and her need to protect and care for that someone.

Nadine was finally starting to realize that she could do good on her own merits, and not just for Nina's sake.

That she could have her own life.

It was a huge step.

Yet Natasha still couldn't quite help the small, pervasive fear that her sister could still leave, even after considering her involvement in helping their new members train or her use of the Compound's resources in facilitating her different searches.

It was a fear brought on by her own experience, really. Looking at Nadine now was like looking at a reflection of her past self. Natasha had been in the same shoes once, after all, fighting to unlearn years of conditioning and habits. To relearn how to rely on others. To learn how to actually trust.

To learn that she could actually belong somewhere if she wanted to.

Hell, she'd had to face those feelings all over again during the Ultron Fiasco, when Wanda's manipulations in Johannesburg had brought all her unresolved issues in the matter rushing back to the surface from where she'd long ago buried them away.

There had been several times in her early S.H.I.E.L.D. days where she'd considered moving on, disappearing. Times where she'd feared her place in the agency had been just another iteration of her time with the KGB. Times where the turn her life had taken had felt too good to be true. But each time she'd been convinced to stay, first by Clint and Fury, eventually by herself. It had just taken time. The Red Room had been ruthlessly efficient in training the notion that they had the ability to 'belong' somewhere out of them all.

It was a long road toward getting past that.

But Nadine really was making progress on that front. Having Nina, having been  _needed_  by her daughter for so many years had laid the foundation for what Nadine was attempting to learn…or rather, unlearn. Already she was opening up and beginning to trust even if she scoffed at Natasha's observations of it. She already trusted Natasha, and she'd demonstrated just hours ago that she'd grown to trust Laura and Clint far quicker than Natasha had expected. Certainly faster than the blonde assassin had expected if her barely contained surprise had been any indication.

And she was beginning to trust Steve, Natasha recalled happily, even if she didn't truly recognize as much yet; though, Natasha suspected that was beginning to change. Nadine spoke to him, openly. And more than once in recent days, despite Nadine's still visible reservations about doing so, Natasha had noticed her sister going to Steve directly with updates on her search for Barnes instead of allowing Natasha pass them along to the Captain. Even when she had nothing substantial to report. That alone was nearly astonishing to Natasha.

There were times when Natasha felt like Nadine barely felt comfortable sharing that she'd made little progress in her mission to find Barnes with her, the admission likely making her feel vulnerable. Like she had failed. And Nat was her sister, arguably the person Nadine trusted most.

Of course, the idea that having nothing new was a failure was a ridiculous thought—Nadine was far from giving up, after all, and it wasn't like she hadn't already made remarkable progress since Paris—but it was one Natasha knew she couldn't help. They'd long ago learned to see the lack of results as failure and failure as weakness, a mindset Natasha was still fighting against herself from time to time.

That Nadine was beginning to not only go to Steve first when it came to news on Barnes—she'd felt far too guilty those first weeks to so much as consider it—but to admit to him directly when she  _didn't_ have anything new to report? That was a huge step. Especially when it came to Barnes.

Natasha had discerned quickly that the topic of Bucky Barnes was just as sensitive a topic for Nadine was it was to Steve. For good reason, of course, but it had still taken Natasha a bit off guard when she'd first realized just how much. Naturally, she'd expected it to be sensitive, even before she'd known about Nina. Just not as sensitive.

In retrospect, that had been an obvious miscalculation on her part. Why wouldn't finding him, helping him, be important to Nadine? Natasha had known even back then that her older sister felt guilty and responsible for what had happened. Nadine had maintained her good heart despite the training they had both endured, after all. Arguably more so than Natasha had. That wasn't even considering Steve's absent musings about whether the Treatments had acted as the serum he'd been given had and enhanced not just physical traits, but personality ones as well; good becomes great and bad becomes worse, or something.

And even though they had been conditioned to have far more flexible morals than the average person? What Nadine had been asked—pushed, even forced, really—to do had obviously sat wrong with her even all those years before, when their perceptions had still been horrifically skewed thanks to their environment and their upbringing. Of course Barnes was going to be personal for Nadine. Of course she was going to feel the need to find him.

And that wasn't even factoring for Nina.

Nina.

Natasha suppressed a heavy sigh, restraining the urge to drop her head to her hands or at the very least attempt to massage away the headache she knew she was likely to develop trying to figure out what to do about her niece.

With each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear to Natasha that Nina's heart wasn't wholly behind her decision to join Wanda and Pietro for training.

No, her powers were behind that decision.

Well, that and a desire to try and to prove, not just to Nadine, but to herself that she wasn't helpless, that Nina was more than capable of looking after herself.

It was something else that had become clear the longer she worked with Nina.

But her powers…

Natasha still had no idea how to handle that particular development. On one hand, now that Nina was definitely Enhanced beyond what she'd inherited from Nadine—powerfully so, if what little she'd seen and heard about her powers were any indication—she could see the benefit of Nina have at least some measure of training to go along with them. Even if she was still keeping them under wraps for the time being…something else Natasha was working on.

And from the point of view of an Avenger? Having powers like Nina's on the Team once she'd accepted and revealed them would be a huge asset. Even having just some of Nina's skills would be an asset. The girl had a talent for writing algorithms. Ones that put even Nadine's to shame at times. In putting those abilities to the test the other day? The clever little program Nina had written with the assistance of the Compound's U.I. for breaking an old HYDRA encryption code had worked thirteen percent faster than the one Natasha had written as a baseline. Natasha still couldn't escape the smug little grin Nadine had given her after that exercise. And all Nina'd had to say?

"I've always liked solving problems." Complete with a guileless shrug.

Not to mention she was a decent fighter, a quick thinker, observant with a good memory…there were a lot of pros to Nina being a part of their new Avenger program. She wasn't anywhere up to Nadine or Natasha's level, and barely matching some of the trained former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but considering her age and lack of formal training? And she was improving daily. Overall, she had a great deal of potential. And together with Wanda, she was able to help keep Pietro in line; a task easier said than done, some days.

But Nina wasn't satisfied. Natasha could see it in the set of her mouth and the barely perceptible weary reluctance in the set of her shoulders every morning. Oh, she seemed to be enjoying herself well enough, daily additions to her list of bruises, sore muscles and mental fatigue after the long days they were put through aside. She put on a good face, that was for sure.

But at the same time, Natasha was certain the training wasn't quite sitting right with her niece. She hadn't fully committed herself to it the way the Twins or even Sam and Rhodey had. The young blonde might be well on her way to being Avenger-capable, but she didn't quite have the temperament for it.

Nadine had been right when she'd confided to Natasha that she didn't think her cheerful, compassionate daughter was entirely cut out to spend the rest of her life fighting. Capable as she might be, Nina wasn't a fighter at heart. Her weapons skills were up to par, as were her hand-to-hand skills, but every time she hit the mats to train, she pulled her punches. If she was against another person, Nina held back until she was pushed out of it. It was something Nadine had admitted that Nina had been doing since her days in extra-curricular martial arts. She hadn't entirely disabused Nina of the practice because of the minor measure of Enhancement Nina had inherited from Nadine—hitting with the power of an adult in a child's competition would've drawn too much attention, after all—but Natasha wasn't so sure habit was behind the tendency. Nina just genuinely didn't want to hit. And Natasha wasn't even sure it was a conscious effort either.

No, Nina thought she had to be there, Natasha had long since concluded. And all because she had powers.

Powers she had yet to share with anyone save the Twins and Natasha herself. And Natasha had been an accident.

Her powers were going to be the key. Natasha was sure of that too. If she could get Nina to open up about her powers? To tell Nadine? She very much suspected that Nina would finally realize that she didn't  _have_  to be like the Avengers. That she didn't  _have_  to be like them. Perhaps then the young blonde would be able to turn her mind to the things she actually wanted. Or at least, she'd be able to finally have the space to figure out what that was. Nadine had said Nina had been excited for university. Perhaps once she wasn't caught up on her new powers and what she thought she had to do with them, Nina could decide if she still wanted that.

It was hard to say.

"You're thinkin' awfully hard over here." Natasha looked up at Clint as he settled next to her on the couch, handing her a bottle of beer that matched his own. With a distracted smile she accepted it, raising it slightly in toast before taking a drink. Clint watched with an unsatisfied look before his face split into an amused grin.

"Good call on Cap, by the way. I swear, she almost blushed." Nat snorted at the blasé remark.

"Told you. It's your fault for doubting," she quipped back with mock offense.

"Never said I doubted," he said with a broad grin. Nat spared him a grin back, but it apparently wasn't quite convincing enough. Not for Clint. He seemed to catch on that her thoughts were still elsewhere.

"Okay, spill," he finally said, settling back into the cushions and propping his feet up on the ottoman, his attention fixed solely on her.

Natasha hesitated, biting at the inside of her lip before glancing up to Clint with a reluctant expression. She needed to confide in someone—someone other than Fury—and for obvious reasons Nadine was out. Glancing over to the kitchen, where Nadine, Nina, Laura and the rest had gathered to start on dinner—the happy noise easily ready to serve as a safeguard against eavesdropping—Natasha made her on-the-spot decision. She forced herself to relax back into the cushions herself.

"Nina has powers," she finally murmured. Clint's eyes snapped to hers, his gaze intent and demanding. Slowly Natasha nodded in confirmation before continuing. "I've seen them, Clint. It was her in Sokovia." He frowned, though comprehension began to glimmer in his eyes. "She's the one who saved you. Pietro…well, he was saved just as much as you were by, well, whatever it was she did."

"What are they," he asked just as softly after a moment, his features schooled but his gaze curious. Natasha opened her mouth to answer, only to pause to think over what she'd seen and what she'd been told.

"Some sort of psycho-kinetic field—maybe even psionic—I think. Fury called it an Inhibiting Field; I asked him to take some of the readings I got on her while Nadine was away off to one of his experts on Enhancements to try and figure it out. It's something that can block not only physical objects to some degree but psychic abilities as well; it may even function as some sort of block against Enhanced powers in general. She can keep Wanda's powers out and blocked Wanda from sensing Pietro that day. It's why Wanda had thought Pietro had been killed." Clint's frown deepened further.

"But both she and Pietro were shot," he countered. Natasha shrugged.

"Maybe she couldn't block every bullet? Or just slowed them down? She was still in pretty rough shape that day. I don't know. I don't think she can control it yet. And even though none of them said as much, it sounded like Sokovia was the first time it manifested.

"All I know is that the Twins are convinced that what happened in Sokovia against the Quinjet was all her," Natasha concluded. "Pietro's certain he didn't do anything except run in front of you. That she was the one who shielded you all." Clint let out a gusting breath, astonishment clear in the sound as he processed Natasha's explanation.

"I guess we should have gone with Nicholas instead of Pietro after all," he said thoughtfully after a moment. Natasha gaped at him before a twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. He laughed as she smacked him on the arm for the flat joke.

It was then that Clint fixed her with a probing look.

"Does Nadine know?" He already knew the answer. He'd put it together thanks to her state as he'd walked up. He knew her too well, sometimes. Natasha sighed again, easily restraining the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. She could understand where Nina was coming from in her insistence on not telling Nadine yet. She really could. They weren't bad arguments. But that didn't mean she liked it, or that she thought it was the right call.

But Nina was just as stubborn as her mother.

"Nina doesn't want to tell her yet," she admitted, not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter from her best friend. Slowly Clint nodded, a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. He got it without her needing to say anything more.

"She's afraid to tell Nadine." Natasha looked to him with surprise, her eyes widening at his observation. She hadn't expected him to make that leap right away. He grinned, thought the expression was far more sedate than it typically was. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out Nadine doesn't like that she's Enhanced, Nat. Mostly because of how it affected Nina, I think. She seems to be getting better about it the longer she's around you guys, but it's still there. It's no great stretch to think Nina is just as well aware of that fact and dreads Nadine's reaction to her being powered because of it." Natasha had to grant him that. She'd come to the same conclusion before Nina had even confessed as much. Natasha hesitated again before looking to the archer, her features serious.

"I promised her I wouldn't tell, Clint," she finally said. Clint sighed heavily.

"But you don't agree with her."

"No. But still…I can understand why. But at the same time I don't. She should tell her, but Nina won't budge on this. I don't even have to try to know. I've been working on the Twins, trying to get them on board with trying to convince her, but…" Clint visibly commiserated without saying a word. Natasha groaned in frustration, slumping down in her chair. "I'm so glad Cooper, Lila and Nate are too young for this kind of drama," she muttered. Clint barked out a laugh.

"It also helps that they're not Enhanced, or teenagers," he pointed out. "No special powers and no hormones." Natasha couldn't help but grin at his teasing, which was just what he'd intended. The comment having cheered her up, even if only slightly, she pressed on.

"So?" Clint cocked his head in question. Natasha made a face at the gesture that had him chuckling before continuing. "What do you think? Fury's already weighed in," she added dryly, taking another sip of her beer. Fury had certainly weighed in on the matter when he'd brought back the results on Nina's powers that Natasha had left with him; the same day Thor had left and Nadine had made her decision to stay, actually. Barton huffed out a chuckle.

"And what did our esteemed former boss have to say?" Natasha nearly rolled her eyes, scoffing lightly as she relaxed further, propping her own feet up next to Clint's.

"Yeah…well, you know Fury. Blunt truths and vague statements all rolled into one. Honestly? He wasn't very helpful." Clint shook his head with a wry grin as Natasha took another drink, raising his own bottle to his lips.

"He told you to leave Nina to figure it out on her own, didn't he." Natasha shrugged.

"Basically."

"The man is obviously not a parent…" Barton muttered. Natasha snorted in amusement. Maybe, maybe not. He might not be a parent—that they knew of—but the man knew people. His advice had been undoubtedly insightful, almost frighteningly so, as always. But this time it had basically been to let mother and daughter sort it out between them and to let the cards fall where they may. Natasha was not happy with it, but at the same time, she knew he was probably right on some level. It was Nina's call. She was effectively an adult, and how she handled telling everyone about her powers was her business.

But at the same time, she was still technically a minor—even if only for a few more months—and she was family. Did that mean it was Natasha's responsibility to tell Nadine? Was it worth betraying Nina's trust over Nadine's? Would Nadine understand if she kept Nina's secret? Since it was Nina they were talking about? Natasha honestly had no idea.

She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Nina her mom could be unpredictable when it came to her.

"If it were you," she asked her best friend softly. "If it were Cooper who had asked me to keep something like this to myself? To leave him to tell you in his own time?" Barton sighed.

"I would want you to warn me, I suppose. But Cooper's still a kid. Nina's not anymore, no matter how much she might feel that way to us, no matter how young she might still seem at times. No matter her age. Not really. Not after being put through more than most adults could ever dream of and pulling through the way she did." He sighed heavily. "There does come a time when kids need to be allowed to take charge of their own lives. Laura's already getting on me to accept that about ours, especially Cooper. Something as big as this? As much as I want to say tell Nadine, it's Nina's life. As much as I don't like to say it, I think Fury might be right."

"I was afraid you might say that," Natasha grumbled, more resigned than genuinely upset. "And there I hoped you were going to convince me that this was one of those rare occasions when Fury was wrong." Barton shrugged, grinning in sympathy.

"Doesn't mean you can't nudge her in the right direction, though." Natasha's gaze snapped intently to Clint, her brow furrowing in silent demand to explain.

"How do you mean?" Clint leaned back further in his seat, stretching and lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Well, she's aiming to become an Avenger, right?" Natasha nodded absently in agreement, urging him to continue. "Make telling a condition. Really, it probably should be anyway." Natasha caught on immediately.

"She can't have a secret like that if she wants to be on the team, anyway. It would put everyone at risk if she tried," she continued thoughtfully. "It is a legitimate concern. We all need to be aware of each other's capabilities—strengths, weaknesses, abilities—to work together, to trust each other. A secret like that could be dangerously counterproductive." Barton nodded, reaching for his drink.

"Exactly." He paused, turning thoughtful again as he sipped his beer. "And get the Maximoffs on board too." Natasha cocked a brow at his suggestion. "They know, right? She trusts them. If they're advising it too, it'll help steer Nina in the right direction." Natasha nodded, sinking into thought herself for a moment before grinning impishly at her friend.

"I knew I liked you." He smirked, lifting his bottle to her in mock toast.

"Well, you didn't keep me around for my looks, ruggedly handsome as they are." Smirking back, she raised her own beer to clink against his.

"Damn right," she agreed without missing a beat. He feigned a pained flinch.

"Ouch, Widow. That's cold. You're not supposed to agree  _that_  easily."

Their laughter was loud enough to reach through the happy chaos that had overtaken the Barton kitchen, causing several sets of eyes to turn their way. Including one suddenly reprimanding set of brown eyes.

And without anyone having to say a word, two sets of feet had dropped from the ottoman with a synchronized thud.

Laura just grinned, pleased.


	78. Chapter 3

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Fall 2015**

"That's enough for today," Nadine called out, and the sounds of sparring that had been echoing around the training area tapered off into chatter as the room began to clear. Pausing to exchange a one armed hug, she waved Nina off after the Twins, the pair of them already following the former S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel out of the training centre. Nadine couldn't help but grin after them as they passed through the sliding doors heading out to the corridor.

Even though her eyes narrowed as Pietro reached out to grab Nina's hand just as they turned the corner out of sight. Something Pietro noticed, causing Nadine to smirk internally as he defiantly lifted his chin but still quickened his pace, not quite able to hide a nervous swallow at her impassive scrutiny. Nadine restrained a chuckle. It really was too easy, sometimes.

They were all three of them making remarkable progress. It was certainly taking some work to get the Twins to disengage from their powers for the duration of her sessions, but it was something Nadine believed was necessary. But once she'd gotten them both to agree that learning to fight properly and effectively without their powers would be valuable—Pietro had been particularly stubborn on that front—they'd both really gotten into the sessions. Pietro's competitive side had certainly come out, and Nadine was pleased with how Wanda's self-confidence seemed to be getting a healthy boost as she improved. Especially in weapons training.

And, not that Nadine was surprised, but Nina was doing pretty well herself. But then, she'd always seemed to enjoy whatever sort of hand-to-hand training Nadine had suggested over the years.

Though it didn't come out often, Nina did have a competitive side and this sort of training was a good outlet for it. It didn't hurt either that she was good. Her face off against Strucker's mercenaries in Vienna had been proof enough of that alone, not to mention her history with martial arts growing up. What little of Nadine and Barnes' Enhancement she'd inherited certainly manifested on the sparring mats. Nina was quick, stronger than she looked and clever enough to take advantage of it. She had good reflexes and she had a dash of daring that often appeared when her adrenaline was pumping or when her emotions ran high.

This training was good for her, Nadine had to admit. All of it, not just the hand-to-hand training. Nadine hadn't seen Nina's eyes light up like they had during some of Natasha's problem-solving exercises since…well, since before Prague. Nina was gaining her own confidence back every time she proved herself capable of passing every one of Natasha or Nadine's tests, every time she proved she wasn't helpless. Not that anyone, Nadine especially, had considered her anything but capable. By all accounts, Nina had held her own remarkably well that day in Vienna, and she'd kept her head in Sokovia when many others would not have held up to the strain done half so well.

But Nadine wasn't blind. That she hadn't been able to fight off Strucker's goons altogether had shaken Nina. Just as it bothered her that she hadn't done more to stand up to Strucker or Ultron. Not that any of it was her fault; arguably she'd made the smart decision to keep her head down, especially with Ultron. But that didn't mean it hadn't worn at Nina's confidence.

So training was a good thing. It was helping her face her insecurities and work through her lingering frustrations from what she'd gone through.

And perhaps she was just being overly optimistic, but Nadine was also fairly certain that Nina was finally starting to admit to herself that this, a life among the Avengers, wasn't exactly what she wanted. Oh, Nadine was fairly sure Nina wouldn't want to leave it behind anymore—feelings of 'belonging' were hard to fight, after all—but she was convinced Nina didn't want to be immersed in it either.

There had been a couple times recently when she'd caught her daughter glancing over the websites to a couple of the schools she'd applied to, a conflicted, thoughtful look on her face as she'd stared at the screen. Of course, as soon as she'd noticed she wasn't alone, the page would be gone and Nina would be acting like there was not a thing bothering her. Not that she could fool Nadine, of course.

But it was a cue, and a blatant one, that Nina was beginning to think beyond what had happened to her and the world she now found herself a part of. And that was immeasurably reassuring to Nadine. It meant Nina was beginning to grow more comfortable in her own skin again, with who she was, and was beginning to think about what she wanted again over what she thought was expected, what she believed was required of her.

She was, perhaps, even beginning to realize that she didn't have to prove she belonged in this world.

That she didn't have to prove it to Nadine.

To Nadine, it was tangible proof that Nina was truly healing from her ordeal and all the stress the ensuing days after Sokovia had placed on her. That she was learning to bear the weight Nadine had begrudgingly placed on her young shoulders. That she was apparently thinking of picking her life back up again? That she was once again beginning to consider the future that she'd wanted before all of this? That she was genuinely thinking of  _her_  future? That she wasn't just going along with this because the Twins were? It was a good sign.

And even if, after all this, she still chose to aim toward someday becoming an Avenger, Nadine couldn't say she'd be unhappy. So long as Nina had really thought it through, if she'd genuinely considered her options and what she wanted to do with her life? So long as Nina wasn't sacrificing what she truly wanted to pursue what she believed she should want? At the end of the day, Nadine didn't care what she chose.

Well, yes, she would care a little. And she'd worry, excessively no doubt, but ultimately she'd be satisfied so long as Nina was happy and free to have the life she wanted.

That was what she'd fought and lied and killed for, after all.

Still, Nadine didn't think that was the path her daughter would settle on. Especially given that Nadine was convinced that this world of Avengers couldn't offer Nina the life she wanted. Not exactly.

Of course, she'd never not be a part of it, not anymore. But she didn't have to disappear into it, either. It was possible, after all, to have a foot in both worlds. It wasn't easy, but it could be done. Stark's sister made that clear. As did Dr. Cho and Thor's friend Dr. Selvig. Even Sam was keeping up his work at the VA on top of his commitment to the Avengers. Recently he was splitting their time rather effectively between the Compound and the world average, everyday people were a part of. And that Rhodes was the same went without saying. If that was something her daughter wanted, it was certainly something Nina could pursue.

But she needed to realize she had that option first.

And she was getting there, Nadine couldn't help but think with a smile as she watched her daughter disappear around the corner with the Twins. With a bit of help, of course. Nadine had certainly been alluding to such things, to options and possibilities beyond the Avengers. Just as she knew her sister had been as well. Nat's mastery of the subtle—and not so subtle—had been on full display the last few weeks…culminating during one of Meg Stark's most recent visits to the facility. Nina had been drawn into an hour-long discussion about the Maria Stark Relief Foundation with Tony's sister thanks to Natasha's meddling; a manipulation that the redhead had been profoundly satisfied with. And more than once Nadine had come across her sister chatting almost too casually in Nina's hearing either with or about Dr. Cho, marvelling about how she balanced her work with the Avengers while still maintaining her own separate research lab in Seoul in the regular world. Once it had been with Sam about his trips back to DC to check in with his old VA office and the people he'd grown close to there. It had been hard to miss the smug glints in her sister's vibrant eyes on such occasions at the determined way Nina had been pretending not to listen.

Nadine also suspected Steve had said something to her daughter, having heard from Nat that the Captain had taken the time to have a chat with each of the prospective new Avengers about their training, where their heads were, and if they still truly wanted to one day be a part of the Team. And he'd included Nina among that number. If what she'd heard from Natasha was correct, Steve had caught onto Nina's reluctance to fully commit to the training as well, and had urged her to really think about if it was was something she wanted to pursue.

What was really encouraging was that it seemed like Nina was listening.

To all of them.

She seemed to be genuinely contemplating whether being a part of the Avengers—in whatever capacity—was really what she wanted.

And Nadine couldn't be happier.

Especially when Nina had confronted her about it.

"Do you think I could really be an Avenger? Really?" It had caught her by surprise, and given how Nina had blurted out the question, the words all but spilling past her lips, Nina hadn't fully planned on asking either. Nadine honestly hadn't known how to answer. A million different responses had flown through her head, and no 'one' of them felt like the right way to go about it. She'd finally gone with the truth, Or, at least the truth as she saw it.

"Are you capable? Yes, I think so," she'd said, affirming her words with a reassuring grin. "Knowing what Nat and Rogers expect? Knowing what I would expect in their shoes? You're holding your own,  _solnyshko_ , and improving every day. You have every potential to become as good a fighter as any one of us. When you push yourself? Some days you're just as quick and clever as Natasha. Even as fast as me. One day? You could very well be good enough to become an Avenger." As she'd spoken, Nina's tense frame had begun to relax, reassuring Nadine in turn. But despite the relief on her face, Nina had still appeared reserved, her blue-grey eyes thoughtful.

It was at that realization that Nadine had sobered, pointedly ignoring the hopeful way her stomach had started to flip as she continued: "but do I think you'd be happy?" Nina's face had fallen just as Nadine had expected. But the thoughtful expression had remained, something in her eyes suggesting to Nadine that Nina might just have heard her own innermost thoughts echoed.

Nadine hoped that had been the case. But now it was really just a waiting game. Waiting to see what Nina decided to do.

But that didn't mean Nadine couldn't prepare. Premature or not, she had started working on one of Nina's new covers, prepping it…just in case.

After all, if she did want to pursue a life beyond the Compound, especially if she did decide she wanted to continue on with her plans to go on to school, Nina would need a properly constructed identity, complete with academic history and the whole package.

Couldn't hurt to be ready, right?

Nadine grinned to herself at the thought as she began to wrap her wrists, preparing for her own round of exercises now that the training session she'd led was over. It wouldn't do to let her own discipline slip, after all. Across the room, her heard the door hiss open. So she wasn't surprised when her thoughts were interrupted.

"You look pleased about something." She glanced up at the Captain's faintly amused observation, taking in the easy way he dropped his gym bag to begin loosening up. Nadine forced herself to focus on his question, turning her gaze back to her wrist bindings. Her grin deepened.

"Well, Nina's in a much better place these days. The training's helping in more ways than one, I think." She stole a glance at the Steve as he nodded absently, reaching into his bag for some wraps of his own. It was hard to resist, really, especially given that his workout wear left his impressive arms on full display and did little to disguise the breadth of his shoulders or his perfectly defined torso. The man was certainly not hard to look at.

But ogling a co-worker was the height of unprofessional, and Nadine forced her attention away from the Captain, stepping up to one of the room's flesh-tones practice dummies and letting out a few warm-up swings and kicks to get her blood moving.

One bonus of sharing training facilities with the Avengers? Top quality equipment.

It was almost enough to keep her mind off the fact that she could feel the Captain watching her. Appraising her, even. The same way she had been watching him maybe? Now that was a ridiculous thought to crown them all. She shook the thought from her head. He wouldn't look at her that way. Why would he? As objectively attractive as she might be, she was also the woman who had taken advantage of his best friend, whether he blamed her for it or not. A man as good and noble as Steve? He wouldn't think of her that way. Especially not since she also had a history and a daughter with that same friend. So, pleasant as the thought of him looking might be, she pushed it and the accompanying flush away.

So instead she changed the topic. Sort of. She changed it so far as her thoughts were concerned, at least.

"So I—I heard you talked to Nina. About—" she paused in her assault on the dummy to gesture loosely around her, "—about all this." She looked over to him again, catching sight of him over by the sound system Stark had insisted on installing, flicking it on as he fiddled with his phone. He glanced up at her question and, seeing her looking his way, held up the phone in silent question: do you mind a little music? She shook her head. She didn't mind. As far as she was concerned, it was another element to strain her senses as she trained, which was always a useful exercise. Looking back to the phone, he still answered despite his concentration on getting the device to sync.

"I did." Nadine considered him. There was something to his tone, something—she caught him glancing at her from the corner of his eye and it clicked—nearly apologetic. He was worried he'd overstepped. "She's a smart kid, Nadine. She knows what she wants. She just…I don't think she realizes she knows yet. I just tried to help." He glanced up then, his expression certain despite the apology written in his eyes. Nadine couldn't help but grin.

"Well, maybe it'll help hearing it from someone other than me." He grinned back at her response, relief clear on his face as he turned back to his phone, having finally gotten it to sync. Good. She didn't like the idea of him feeling bad for genuinely trying to help Nina. It might have been nice had he spoken to her first, Nadine admitted to herself, but she also found she really didn't mind. Not when it was Steve. Not in this instance, at least. Besides, she knew she needed to stop treating Nina like a child, including with other adults. And she knew she couldn't be Nina's filter forever, even if part of her wanted to be. Besides, she just instinctively knew Steve really did have Nina's best interests at heart. Oddly enough, where Nina was concerned, she had come to trust him. Just as she did with Natasha, really.

Had it been anyone else she knew she would've taken issue, whether she agreed with their reasons or not. She nearly frowned at the turn her thoughts had taken. It was odd, really. She could count the number of people she trusted with her daughter on one hand: Natasha, Barton, Laura—a new addition, but a surprisingly easy one—and admittedly the Twins had come to sneak their way onto her list as well…and so had Steve. God, she was up to two hands, wasn't she.

It was then that she truly realized the gravity of what she'd just concluded, and one of the most startling thoughts she'd had in a long time dawned on her: was she actually beginning to trust Steve?

The thought was unbidden and almost completely reflexive; she really had come to trust the Captain, she realized with a start. And without having to convince herself that she could first, too. Enough so that she trusted him with her daughter.

What on Earth was  _that_  supposed to mean?

She immediately pushed the thought away; it wasn't the right time to deliberate that question. It wasn't relevant just now.

The line of thought was jarred from her head when Benny Goodman's 'Sing, Sing, Sing' was suddenly tumbling from the speakers. A smile was immediately tugging at her lips at the unexpected song choice. And when she caught sight of the equally startled, flustered look on Steve's face, she couldn't help it. She started laughing. After another moment of fiddling, a rather pink-cheeked but bashfully smiling Steve had something more appropriate to a workout playing in the background, something with a moderate but heavy beat.

As he retreated from the sound system, Nadine couldn't help herself.

"So, Captain America works out to Big Band, does he?" If anything his cheeks pinked further at her friendly teasing, the back of his neck beginning to redden as a soft chuckle made it past his grin.

"Well," he said lightly back, "it was my era." She nearly frowned at the almost self-conscious way he said it, trying to make light of it. Her smile faded.

"I'm sorry." He jerked at the apology, looking abruptly to Nadine. "The 'man out of time' thing is sensitive, isn't it." For a moment he just stared at her, a considering look on his face. Finally Steve just shrugged.

"Not like it was at first," he admitted. "It's just…sometimes it feels like a totally different life; it's an odd feeling. Just catches me a little off guard to be reminded, sometimes." Nadine nodded absently, digesting his explanation. It made a lot of sense. She imagined there were moments when it was easy to forget. And others where it wasn't. She had the same problem with her memories of the Red Room; there were days they felt like they belonged to a whole different person, and others… He smiled, drawing her attention back. "Don't worry about it," he urged gently before grinning playfully. "This stuff isn't bad either, really. Not great for dancing, but not bad for a workout." She grinned impishly back, caught up in the lighter mood.

"Why am I not surprised that you dance too. Is there anything you can't do?" Before she'd even finished speaking, he was tensing and, minute a reaction as it was, she knew she'd put her foot in it again. He cleared his throat as he grabbed a sandbag, hanging it carefully before speaking.

"Actually, I don't really. Dance. Never really learned." She winced as his first punch echoed through the room.

"Sorry." He shook his head, a hand stilling the bag as he paused his warm up.

"You didn't know," he dismissed kindly, his voice nevertheless still threaded with tension. "Between the War and that lack of girls willing to dance with a guy they might break before Rebirth, the opportunity never came up." Nadine turned back to her dummy, inwardly reprimanding herself. She should know better; the signs had all been there. It should take more than a nice physique to distract her like that… The thud of her fists and heels on the dummy and his on the sandbag echoed through the room.

Or he just put her off her game?

She didn't know precisely how to feel about that thought.

"So what about you?" She paused again, stilling the shuddering dummy with a bandaged hand as she looked to Steve, not quite sure what he was asking.

"Sorry?" Without looking at her, not even breaking his rhythm with the sandbag as he spoke, he gestured absently toward her.

"Can you dance?" Abruptly he winced with embarrassment, his punches faltering before he too paused, rubbing a hand absently over the back of his neck. "I mean—ballet, I know…obviously—I've, umm, seen you in here from time to time…but more, I don't know…casual?" She nearly giggled at the way he was suddenly stammering, trying to make up for his slip, his neck reddening with a bashful flush at admitting he'd seen her dancing. Strangely enough, she didn't mind the thought, but valiantly kept her pleased grin to herself. After a moment she nodded, forcing back the shadow of old, less than pleasant memories the topic of dancing still managed to bring forward.

"We had to," she said finally, almost apologetically—it was better than with the waver she'd been afraid might colour her voice. "It's amazing how many mission objectives can be achieved on the dance floor." This time his wince was deeper, apology overtaking his features.

"Sorry. Now I'm the one who's stumbling into the sensitive." Nadine surprised him—and herself—by chuckling.

"I think we're both a minefield of that," she quipped back dryly, "and it's not like we've tried to actually get to know one another since May." Unable to help himself, though he still looked faintly uncomfortable, he huffed out a soft chuckle.

"You have a point, there." He let out a few more half-hearted swings before sighing, letting the punching bag still. She glanced up again at the sound, backing off from her kick to straighten.

"Punching things not satisfying today?" He smiled at her attempt to resurrect the lighter mood from a few moments before. It helped.

"Not really," he admitted lightly. She nodded toward the weight centre that dominated the other half of the room; judging by the sparse selection, it was still obviously missing some pieces.

"And I imagine the weights aren't challenging enough for you?" He laughed at her wry comment, shrugging almost sheepishly.

"No, net yet. Stark's got an order in, but since they have to be custom made it's taking some time. Standard ones aren't, well…they don't do me or Thor much good. Same with the deadlift equipment; Tony had to work up a specially reinforced bar to handle the weights I'd need to make a workout of it last time." Nadine raised a brow at him.

"Are we surprised?" she asked wryly. Steve grinned, the expression nearly shy. A strange, fluttery feeling of delight settled in her stomach as she watched the expression play across his face as he shifted. She pushed it aside.

"No," he agreed easily. Nadine nearly stared at him in astonishment. What he was admitting? If he weren't as modest and self-effacing as he was, she'd hate to think of the kind of ego he'd be sporting; he'd probably give Stark a run for his money if his ego were as enhanced as his physical capabilities… And she'd seen him lob a motorcycle over his head…easily.

And he did it all without even an ounce of arrogance or conceit to show for it. He really didn't seem to realize just how impressive he really was. Where either his physicality or his character were concerned.

It was all Nadine could do not to swallow thickly.

Why did he have to be so damn appealing…once again, she was forced to shake the thought from her head. It was entirely too inappropriate.

He nodded toward the sparring mat then, absently checking his wrist wraps as he eyed her appraisingly. "You up for a round?" It took her a moment to realize what he was suggesting. She raised a mischievous eyebrow at him.

"You implying I need the practice?"

"Everyone needs practice," he grinned, his eyes laughing. She raised a brow at his friendly taunt.

"I do train with Nat, if you must know," she countered, leaning against her dummy as she fingered her own wrappings; still set. His grin grew challenging when he noticed the gesture.

"Isn't there a saying about the importance of variety?" Nadine narrowed her eyes at him in contemplation, her head tilting slightly as she considered the offer.

Nadine knew she wasn't a match for the Captain. Not really. She knew very well—even if she never intended to admit it aloud—that even if it hadn't been for Hawkeye's arrow, there was a good chance he would've come out on top in Prague. Eventually. She suspected she'd only held out so well as she had by virtue of surprise, really, Steve having not expected her to be as strong or as fast as she was. It wasn't a mistake he'd make again.

But that didn't mean she wasn't more than capable of giving him a good fight. His Enhancement might be a step—a very, very large step—above her own, but she'd been trained to fight since childhood, and she'd been trained to go up against any opponent, with special attention on how to take down those who should have out-classed her. She'd been trained to see weaknesses and how to take advantage of them. And Steve? He had them. She knew she could use his size, his strength and his confidence in both against him. Same with his instinctive sense of fair play, even chivalry, especially when he found himself up against a woman; a holdover from the era of his upbringing, no doubt.

Yes, she could definitely give him a good fight, just as she knew he'd give as good as he got. She even figured she had a good chance of beating him. And if she could beat Steve?

She might have a real chance against Barnes if it ever came down to a fight. After all, there was no guarantee that the next time she saw him that she'd have backup or that he'd hold back the way he'd been ordered to in the Red Room; he hadn't been fighting to kill back then, after all, or to survive. That had been made abundantly clear to Nadine after seeing the footage from DC, the fight between him and Steve all but branded into her memory. If she had to go up against him again, it would be a very different kind of fight than the ones she remembered.

On that thought, she might be able to help Steve on that front too, in preparing to go up against Barnes again if the need arose. After all, she'd spent a great deal of time up against the Winter Soldier; she'd learned a great deal about how he fought even if he had been holding back. Steve was good—quite likely stronger, if not faster—but she had to wonder if Barnes was perhaps a bit better.

After all, when truly unleashed, the Winter Soldier was ruthless and brutal. He wouldn't hold back, certainly not if the Winter Soldier was the part of Barnes in control. And she knew Steve would pull his punches against Barnes. He wouldn't be able to help himself. Barnes was his oldest friend. It was a natural impulse.

Straightening, she shrugged, smirking at the Captain.

"Why not. We did get interrupted last time." With a laugh and a nod, he courteously gestured for her to step onto the main mat first, an offer she took him up on. But her own politeness ended there.

No sooner had he joined her than she attacked. With a spin and a lunge she engaged him, catching the Captain completely off guard with a solid series of kicks that saw one sneak past his quick defense to land hard against his side.

"Not going to play fair?" he coughed as she danced lightly back. She shrugged.

"Bad guys don't play fair," she quipped back with a smug smile, "and we've got to get you fighting fit." His eyebrows rose at her taunting.

"That's how it's gonna be?" he asked. She nodded, shifting slightly to set up a feint to his right. A move he saw and instinctively prepared for. She withheld a grin at the predictable move.

"It is," she quipped just as she noted the way his muscles coiled a split-second before he lunged.

Expecting it or not, Nadine was hard-pressed to keep his swings from landing, ducking and weaving to avoid the hits; deflecting them wasn't exactly helpful given how much stronger than her he was. Even turning his blows aside was as good as enduring a hit.

But he was still holding back, and she took advantage of that, enacting her feint.

Sure enough, as she'd suspected from watching him fight, he wasn't quite as effective at guarding himself when she attacked from his left. Not that that was saying much, but she would take what she could get.

And she couldn't help it. She laughed as she dodged his counter to her move, setting her up perfectly to launch herself onto his back. In a quick move she had ironically enough learned in her fights against the Winter Soldier, she was swinging her leg around to wind him with a hard hit to the side before hooking her knee around his arm, twisting it back behind him.

And she let her momentum continue pulling her around him, off-balancing the supersoldier. With a heavy grunt, he dropped to his knee, his free hand flying out to brace himself lest he topple forward onto his face.

"You know? You rely too heavily on your shield, Rogers," she goaded, her breath coming in soft pants.

"You sound like Natasha," he grumbled in response, the effect hampered by the grin tugging at his lips. And with a grunt he wrenched his arm forward, yanking her leg and off-balancing her, allowing him to throw her off.

She hit the floor hard enough that she couldn't breathe. But she had been trained in the Red Room. No sooner had she hit the floor than she was already launching herself back to her feet, able to breathe or not.

It went back and forth that way for round after round, Nadine getting the drop on Steve before Steve would regroup and retaliate in kind, until both of them were satisfyingly sore and worn out, falling back to circling each other tentatively, neither quite ready to admit they'd had enough.

Until Hill popped her head into the training room.

"Rogers?" Both Nadine and Steve glanced up to the agent, Nadine instinctively falling back behind a more reserved expression over the pleased grin she'd been sporting. She ignored the twinge of disappointment that the session had come to a close. The fact that their sparring had already effectively wrapped up was beside the point.

At Steve's succinct nod, Hill retreated, once again leaving Steve and Nadine alone. Neither said a word to each other as they both stepped off the mats, exchanging matching grins of acknowledgement that they were done for the day in lieu of words before parting ways. Steve ducked off to retrieve his phone, stopping the music that had served as a backdrop to their match as Nadine began unwrapping her wrists, growing more aware of the satisfying aches suffusing her body as her adrenaline began to dissipate.

He had certainly put her through her paces, she admitted with a smile.

She only paused to answer Steve's nod of thanks with a small wave from across the room as he headed for the door, no doubt already planning on hitting the showers before seeing to whatever Hill needed him for. She had just turned her attention back to her wrappings when his voice carried over to her, seemingly loud in the suddenly quiet space.

"Same time next week?" She looked up to him at the question, unable to hide her surprise in time. He grinned at catching her out. It didn't happen often. Not that she let him see, anyway. After a moment she regained her bearings, grinning back with an enthusiasm that surprised her. Why not? It was good practice…the fact that she had enjoyed herself was merely incidental.

Right?

"See you then," she agreed. With a final nod, the Captain turned, but Nadine wasn't quite done. "Steve?"

He turned back, brow furrowed faintly in silent question. "Yeah?" The nervous flutter threatened to return. But she pushed it aside.

"Thank you," she said. As he smiled back, the flutter returned with a vengeance, and there was nothing Nadine could do to stop it.

"You're welcome, Nadine."


	79. Chapter 4

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Fall 2015**

Her mom had been right. As had Natasha. And Captain Rogers.

Nina wasn't wholly satisfied with Avenger training.

As much as she hated to admit to herself, she was beginning to wonder if she'd made a mistake in being so eager to go along with the Twins and join in with their Avenger training. It was what they wanted, definitely. And it suited them both, really. But Nina? She thought she had wanted it. Truly, she had. The rush that day in Novi Grad had been exhilarating. Helping those people? Helping Captain Rogers? After feeling so helpless in the days following her abduction, it had been amazing to feel useful. To feel capable. But now she couldn't help but wonder how much of that reaction had been just that. Reactionary.

She was pretty sure that was what her mom had been alluding to the last couple weeks. Nadine had been supportive if noticeably reserved about Nina's decision to sit in on the Twin's training. She wasn't a genuine recruit, of course, but with her upbringing at Nadine's side, her own Enhancement—the traits she'd been born with, rather than the ones the Sceptre had given her, of course—and her experience in Sokovia, Natasha and the Captain hadn't seen the harm in letting her join in. Even her mom had seen the benefits enough to go along with it.

And while Nina wasn't so sure she actually wanted to be an Avenger someday, she was self-aware enough to admit that the training had still done her good. She felt…better. She wasn't sure how else to put it. She'd been a mess of emotions and hurt and uncertainty after Sokovia, especially after the talk with her mom. And given how her own feelings of uncertainty in her future had been echoed in the Twins? She supposed it was only natural that she'd seen their solution as one that could work for her too. Especially since it meant she got to stay by them. Thankfully, her mom seemed to recognize that too.

Though it had been a few years since they'd last moved, Nina had recognized the restless shift in her mom that had once signalled Nadine's intent, even eagerness to move on. Pacing, distracted, thoughtful expressions when she thought no one was looking, long stretches of silence as she disappeared into her head or onto a computer. It had all felt a great deal like her mom's stages of planning just before their last move, the one that brought them to Vienna.

It was yet another part of why Nina had leapt at the opportunity of joining the Twins, she realized now. Even though there was no immediate danger of it happening, just thinking of having to start all over again, of having to leave everything behind, made her uneasy enough to make her palms clammy and her heart jump to her throat. Honestly, she wasn't sure how she hadn't realized it before. It seemed so obvious now. She hadn't wanted to leave.

Not the facility where she, strangely enough, felt safe after all that had happened, or the people who understood what she'd gone through. But really, it was the idea of never coming back that really did it. Of never seeing the Twins again. Or Natasha. Even Captain Rogers or Hawkeye. She didn't want to lose her new friends, or her new aunt…okay, that one was perhaps a bit of a stretch. She'd seen how close her mom and Natasha were. There was no way Natasha wouldn't have managed to stay a part of their lives if her mom had whisked the two of them away.

But even now that she recognized the why, she was all the more certain that she didn't want to leave. Not exactly.

Even now that she was coming to wonder if the training had really been more of a coping mechanism or a safeguard than anything else. Not that she hadn't still enjoyed it.

She'd been very sure to tell Captain Rogers that when he'd pulled her aside the other week to chat about her take on her training so far. She had already seen him pulling aside Wanda and Pietro—she was pretty sure he had even talked to Vision—so it hadn't been totally unexpected when he'd asked for a word.

Not that knowing it was coming had helped her nerves, any.

She'd been afraid it was going to be some kind of review, one where he would tell her she just wouldn't be able to keep up with what they were moving onto in his and Natasha's training plan. The warm, comforting haze of her Enhancement had surged forward at the very thought despite her own early doubts at wanting to continue in the first place. It was one thing to choose to drop out, but another to be told to leave.

But the hazy sensation deep in her chest hadn't helped much. If anything it made it just that little bit more nerve-wracking to follow the Captain down the corridor to one of the Compound's meeting rooms for their talk. She'd spent the rest of the chat with the urge to confess that she was far more Enhanced than he believed poised on the tip of her tongue, ready to blurt it out at the slightest provocation.

But it never came.

"Are you happy here?" She had blinked at Steve's question at first, her mind going totally blank for a moment.

"I—yeah. Yeah, I think so," she'd finally answered, growing more confused by the moment. Steve had nodded, eying her in an assessing sort of way. It hadn't been an unkind expression though.

"You think?" She'd frozen at that, absently picking at her nails—they'd been rather ragged at that point; another clue, really, that she hadn't been as happy as she'd been convinced she was.

"I—yeah. Yeah, of course I am," she'd hurried to assure him. "I love training. It feels…it feels good to be doing this." It had been the truth, but the Captain hadn't looked wholly convinced. He'd watched her fidget for another moment before sighing, shooting her a kind smile.

"You know, it's okay not to be, Nina. You're not obligated," he'd said gently. Nina had felt her cheeks flush, then, suddenly feeling foolish and extremely self-conscious. She had  _wanted_  to train, she had reminded herself. She shouldn't be feeling dissatisfied.

"Aren't I?" It had slipped out before she could stop it, in a sad little voice that still made her cringe just thinking about it. She had intended to reassure him that she was happy with what she'd chosen to do. What she'd asked to do. Then she'd gone and reacted like that. Her cheeks had instantly gone from flushed to flaming.

But Captain Rogers had just smiled sympathetically. And it had oddly enough made her feel just a smidge better.

"No, you're not." It hadn't been accusing, or disappointed. It had been concerned, and accepting. Even encouraging. Her chest had felt tight at how comforting that was to realize. He'd paused then, still watching her carefully as he'd leaned against the table, his arms crossing loosely across his chest. "You think you do, though. Don't you." It hadn't been a question. She hadn't been able to do anything but nod. He'd grown thoughtful then, his friendly features growing unreadable.

"You want to help. To make a difference." She'd started at the soft comment, not expecting it. Again, she'd been unable to do anything but nod, her throat having closed up. "But that's not all, is it." Nina had stayed silent, unable to force the words out. They just wouldn't come. She'd realized in that brief, painful moment that she didn't actually know what she wanted. He'd sighed again.

"Sometimes," he'd hesitated then, his gaze dropping to the middle distance before him as he'd realigned his thoughts, "sometimes standing up—stepping up to fight—is the way to do that. It was for me. It is for Nat, and Stark. Even the Twins. But my friend—my best friend…" he'd faltered again, a look of nostalgia passing across his features even as he looked up to her, "before I was chosen for Project Rebirth, I wanted to join up with the Army, to fight, to contribute where hundreds, thousands of others had. I was a scrawny little punk then," he'd said with a self-effacing grin, "and my friend knew better than I did that I wouldn't stand a chance. Not the way I was back then. I had the heart, but not the health to back it up. Being unable to back down from a fight in an alleyway and being in a war were two very different things, after all. Especially when you had the health problems I did." He'd straightened then, inhaling deeply.

"He pointed out that there were other options for ways to contribute, ones that I'd thought wouldn't be enough," he'd said emphatically then before grinning to ease the sting she'd felt at the blunt point he was making. "He'd also accused me of having something to prove." Despite herself, Nina had giggled, which was what Steve had intended if his satisfied smile had been any indication.

"Of course, I did. Even though I'd half-convinced myself my reasons were a bit more altruistic, I did have something to prove," he'd continued with an easy shrug. But then he'd gotten serious again. "Or at least I'd believed I did. And I think you're fighting the same thing." Something in her chest had constricted sadly then. Looking back, Nina wondered if that was when she'd realized that the training wasn't what she'd really wanted. Her eyes had dropped to her shoes, humiliation threatening to overwhelm her as she'd realized he was right. She was trying to prove something. That she wasn't helpless. That she belonged in the world she was a part of…that she was stronger than she was afraid her mom thought she was.

"Hey." She'd looked up to meet Steve's eye, the Captain having bent slightly to ensure she caught it. "Do you think the training has helped  _you_?"

She'd thought about it for a long moment, her arms wrapping tight around her torso. It had, she decided. Then as she still did now, she believed it really had. But she'd needed the reminder. By asking her the way he had, by making her think about it, she'd done just that.

It had all led to a great deal of soul-searching over the last couple days, really.

And she had realized she'd already known.

It had helped. She knew now, after little over a week of turning the conversation and her realizations over and over again in her thoughts, that while she didn't want to leave this new world that she'd been dropped into anymore, neither was she so sure that she wanted to be a part of it the way she'd convinced herself she had to be. The way Steve, her mom, Nat and the Twins were. She didn't want to disappear into it. She didn't want to leave the world she'd grown up in behind. Not completely.

Over the course of her introspection on her place in the Compound, the conversation she'd overheard her Aunt having with Sam a few weeks back had come back to her over and over, always when she'd least expected it. Sam didn't live in the Avengers' world the way her mom or Nat did. Or at least, he hadn't. Not until he'd decided later that he wanted to make that commitment; a thought she had filed away for another time.

And thinking about Sam, and about those overheard conversations had gotten her thinking about the others. Colonel Rhodes lived and worked apart from the Avengers, coming back to lend his support when they needed him. But he still tentatively was one. But Dr. Cho? Dr. Selvig? Most of the agents and scientists dropping into the Compound, really. None of them were Avengers, but they were still there, still lending their support to the Team. So did Meg Stark.

Nina had honestly been fascinated when Nat had introduced her to Iron Man's sister, curious about her work with the Maria Stark Relief Foundation. She'd heard the Foundation's name being thrown about for years in conjunction with the Avengers, but she'd never really given it much thought. But it was important. "More important than prancing around in a fancy, flying toy," Meg had stated with a blasé tone and a sly smirk that had her brother spluttering across the room.

But the point that Nina had taken away was that Meg was a part of her brother's world without having to fight the way he did. In a way that looked to heal more than avenge the darkness that seeped out of the more shadowy parts of the world.

And she helped keep Tony Stark grounded…as much as was possible in the billionaire's case. She was a link for him, really, between the regular world and the world of the Avengers…a bridge.

It left Nina wondering if that was something she could do. If that was something she might want to do. Could she be the one to help keep her mom grounded? Pietro? Wanda? Even Natasha? Barton and his family had been that bridge for her Aunt for years, now. And Nina really had been one for her mom her whole life, already, if she was being honest. Could that be her place? To know about their world but be a link to, well, normalcy? The only hitch she could see to that was the twisting, fearful feeling in her gut at the idea of sitting back while they put their lives in danger, at not stepping up to help them herself when she knew she could. It was another reason why the idea of potentially being an Avenger one day held the appeal that it had.

She could help keep her friends and family safe if she fought with them.

But if she were their bridge, that would be keeping them safe in another way, wouldn't it?

 _Not everyone has to be a soldier to step up_. Steve's parting words from their talk still stuck with her. Nina wasn't a soldier. On some level, she'd known that since before her chat with the Captain. Neither was she an Avenger. Not now. Perhaps someday, when she was more comfortable with herself and her place in the world—and her own powers—but not yet. Not now.

Not when she might very well have found another path to staying in the world she was becoming so fond of.

Not when, instead of being a soldier, she could be a bridge the way Meg Stark was. The way Clint's family had been and now Clint was as well. The way she used to be for her mom…only better this time, since she now knew about the world her mom and the others were immersed in.

A bridge and a shield. She huffed out a small, inadvertent laugh at the thought. She'd be both.

And with that realization a surprising wave of calm had washed over her. Was it really that simple? At once she felt lighter, the warm haze of her powers seeming to melt pleasantly out from her chest and through her whole body as her anxiety began to ease.

Steve had been right, after a fashion. She still felt she had something to prove, she supposed, but it wasn't as a wannabe Avenger.

Now, just how to do it.

To be a bridge as she was conceiving of the notion, she just had to be there for the people she wanted to help. To listen, to talk. To be an anchor of normal against the waves of weird and dangerous they would be up against. But where did that leave her? She couldn't just sit around the Compound for the rest of her life. So what else could she do?

That she didn't know. She'd always had some idea about what to do next. Growing up, it was mostly centred around school—studying for the next test, writing her next essay, finishing her new project, deciding what class to take that would get her to the next class; that sort of thing. Even in her after school programs, it was all about reaching the next goal, the next belt in her martial arts sessions, placing the next competition or showcase. And as her high school years had been drawing to a close, her next step had been university. Anticipation was suddenly fluttering in her chest as she felt suddenly like she'd stumbled on the answer. And her thoughts turned to her plans from before. When she'd been 'normal.'

After Sokovia, she'd dismissed the thoughts of returning to her old life, forcing away her regret at her perceived necessity of abandoning her school plans thanks to her conviction that her new path was the right one given all the changes in her life.

But now? Could that be her path? And she might not even have to leave this world all that far behind if she were to go away to school; Meg had mentioned that the MSRF offered internships when she'd found out what courses Nina had been pursuing in school, and she'd seen Dr. Selvig bustling around the Compound with his own collection of interns and students. She was pretty sure even a couple of Dr. Cho's companions were grad students or something.

Either way, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted to pick that thread of her old life back up.

It wasn't long after that that she found herself standing just outside the Avenger's private common area. Watching, waiting for the right moment.

And for her nerve to rally.

She'd spent so much of the time since Sokovia trying to prove to her mom with assurances and actions that she belonged here. That she wanted to be here. How was she going to take this change of heart? She suspected, after hearing her mom's motives for keeping her secrets, that part of why Nadine had been okay with Nina remaining in the Compound to train came from the fact that not only could Nadine could keep an eye on her here, but there were others who could too. Others who could keep her safe if the situation arose.

Not to mention the state of the art security in and around the Compound…

Just on the other side of the glass, standing in the small kitchenette with her aunt, was her mom. Nina couldn't help but swallow convulsively with nerves.

How was Nadine going to take the news that Nina wanted to leave that safety? That she wanted to leave the compound.

That she wanted to leave Nadine.

Not that that was a real reason behind the decision, really. As annoyed and resentful as a little part of Nina still was over her mom's secrets, that didn't mean she wanted to leave her either. Okay, another part of her did, but that was more the 'I'm almost a grown up and I want to get out on my own' impulse than her lingering anger over everything that had happened. A part of her that was stronger than the traces of her lingering resentment was anxious about leaving the feelings of safety her mom's presence provided. Just like part of her was nervous about leaving the haven that was the Avengers' Compound and the safety it too provided.

Especially after everything that had happened…and all the danger Nina had been in out there away from Nadine's protection. Something she knew her mom was likely going to be uneasy about. For the same reasons.

But on the other hand, Nadine had always wanted Nina to be 'normal'—no, the chance to be normal, Nina corrected remembering her aunt's assurances. What was more normal than wanting to go off to school?

Nina bit back a sigh. She was sure—mostly sure—that this was what she wanted. More than that, she knew it was the right course for her. She needed to do this in a way that she hadn't when she'd decided to join Avenger Training. In the way she'd  _thought_  she needed to train.

She needed to regain her control, and she felt deep in her gut that going away to school, on her own, was the best way to accomplish that. The training had helped her recover some of her confidence. Now she needed to prove to herself that it had worked. She needed to recover her independence. To take back the sense that she could take care of herself that she'd had before Sokovia. Her mom had taught her as much since she was a kid, and she didn't want to waste those lessons anymore. Not like she had been here at the Compound.

One thing above all else, however, was abundantly clear.

It was time to come clean to her mom.

About everything.

And with a deep, fortifying breath, Nina pushed open the glass door to the common area.


	80. Chapter 5

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Summer 2015**

When Nadine had seen Nina push her way into the common area, she'd known something was up. It had been a feeling deep in her gut more than anything else, really. But it had been written all over Nina too.

It was written in the nearly cautious way she'd approached. In the anxious, thoughtful way her eyes had flicked from Nadine to Natasha and back. The way she'd absently picked at her nails. It was written in the tense set of her daughter's mouth and how she shifted her weight as she'd asked Nadine if they could talk and in the nearly undetectable waver to the words.

It was visible in the unconscious plea not to go in her expression when Nat had offered to give them some privacy. Though Nina had nodded mutely, Natasha had obviously taken note of the unspoken reaction too; she lingered on the far side of the common area, more than far enough away not to overhear, but close enough that her presence was comforting.

To both Nina and Nadine.

After all, the instant Nina had entered the common area visibly nervous as she had, it had woken an anxious anticipation of her own to flutter uncomfortably in Nadine's stomach. But Nadine ignored the feeling, giving her daughter an encouraging smile and an assurance that of course they could talk.

Now, the two of them sitting side by side on the red couches Nina had led them to, Nadine was just waiting for Nina to start. Her hesitation wasn't exactly helping Nadine's curiosity or her concern, but she ignored that too.

As Nadine knew from experience, patience was the key. Especially with Nina. And, before long, Nina was drawing a bracing breath, resolve lighting in her eyes as she looked up to Nadine.

"Mom, I—" she hesitated, reluctance and uncertainty suddenly written plainly on her face, and Nadine suddenly knew what was coming. The apprehension? The nervous reluctance? Could Nina finally be ready to open up? Part of her quailed at the idea, of learning what was really bothering her daughter, about what Nina had been working so hard to keep from Nadine. About what Nadine was beginning to suspect Natasha knew more about than she was letting on. The distance that had grown between them, imperceptible as it seemed at times, from whatever Nina was keeping from Nadine and the secrets being kept from her had been weighing heavily on the blonde assassin just as she knew they had been wearing on her daughter. But at the same time, she was almost…afraid to know what it was Nina had been so reluctant to share.

So as much as she wanted to prompt her when Nina faltered, Nadine held her silence, forcing herself to be patient despite her own growing nerves. Could they finally be on the verge of truly getting back to the place they had been before Prague?

Nina looked up to Nadine from her tightly clasped fingers before taking a deep bracing breath. Nadine froze, fighting to keep her anticipation from her own features.

"Mom, I—The real reason I wanted, or…well…I thought I needed to learn about being an Avenger…why, umm…it's that Strucker…" she faltered again, growing flustered as, thanks to her her nerves, her mouth couldn't quite seem to keep up with her thoughts. Her gaze dropped to her hands, drawing Nadine's attention to her bitten nails; her heart clenched at the visible sign of just how anxious Nina was about this. It wasn't surprising she couldn't quite manage to get it out.

But Nadine had gotten the gist regardless. Her stomach dropped even as understanding sparked with vibrant clarity in her brain.

"You thought you needed to because you're Enhanced," Nadine finally finished softly at the miserable, frustrated look that had appeared on her daughter's face. Nina's wide-eyed gaze snapped to Nadine, shock and apprehension overwhelming her frustration instantly.

"You know?" Nadine could only nod, her throat closing at the way Nina's voice trembled. How could she not?

It was her fault, after all.

"How long?" The question was little more than a whisper, her nervous uncertainty reasserting itself in Nina's blue-grey eyes; more blue than grey today, Nadine noticed absently. Nadine reached forward to untangle her daughter's white-knuckled fingers, clasping them in her own.

"Longer than I've wanted to admit," she said honestly. Nina let out a soft, huffing breath of disbelief before her whole frame was once again tensing. She glanced tentatively up her Nadine, her apprehension even more noticeable than before.

"And you…you're not…upset?" Nadine couldn't breathe at how hard Nina was trying to restrain the hope that made its way into her voice, the blonde assassin needing a great deal of self-control to keep the sob that tried to rise in her chest from escaping. Without hesitation, Nadine gathered her daughter into her arms.

"Oh,  _solnyshko_ ," Nadine breathed, her own voice wavering with emotion. She weighed her next words carefully. "I'm…I'm upset that you had to go through what you did. But about you being Enhanced?" She pulled back then, turning Nina's face to look at her. "I don't care about that." And she meant it. She might not be happy about her own Enhancement, or the fact that she passed some of it onto Nina, but there was no way in hell that that would change how she felt about her daughter. Why should it? Nina was still Nina and Nina was still her little girl, her little sun, her everything. Enhanced or not. Besides, why should she mind? Nina had been born Enhanced whether Nadine liked it or not, no matter that she had tried to deny it for as long as she had. It meant nothing had changed. Not really.

The only difference was that Nina knew now.

Relief, almost painfully intense, began to overtake Nina's features as Nadine's assurance sank in. Relief profound enough that Nadine felt her own eyes begin to grow damp as Nina sagged back against her, letting out a ragged breath as she burrowed deeper into Nadine's arms. Nadine just held her tighter, humming softly as Nina began to tremble at the sudden absence of the anxiety that had obviously been building for weeks.

After a long moment, Nina sniffed, blinking furiously as she pulled away. But then a faint frown appeared on her face, her large eyes questioning as she looked back to Nadine.

"But I thought you wanted me to be…normal," she said, her voice small as her uncertainty began to creep back onto her features. Nadine's chest cramped at how nearly miserable she sounded even after Nadine's assurance.

"I wanted you to be happy," Nadine insisted before sighing, her own gaze dropping as she gathered her thoughts. "I…Nina, my…my experience with being Enhanced? It was never a good thing," she finally admitted. Because that was what was truly at the heart of it. It wasn't even so much that she wanted to protect Nina from the world of Enhancements and Spies and Avengers. It was that she wanted to protect Nina from the kind of life  _she'd_  had. From the part of their world  _she'd_  known.

Nadine cleared her throat, looking back up to her daughter. Sympathy and a tentative flicker of understanding had bloomed on Nina's face at Nadine's confession. Nadine inhaled deeply, a trace of a grin beginning to tug at her lips. "But now that I've been here? Now that I've worked with the Avengers? Seen another side of this world? Having my sister back…having…having friends?" Of its own accord, a smile was spreading across Nadine's face as she met Nina's eye. She clasped her daughter's hands tightly in her own. "I'm starting to see that…that maybe it's not always so bad being Enhanced. It's even…special." Nina's face suddenly split into a grin, the relief from before renewing and giving way to her much more welcome sunny happiness as she threw her arms around Nadine again.

"I think it is too," she agreed softly. The sound that escaped Nadine at the comment was somewhere between a relieved sob and a laugh. And just then, Nadine couldn't really care less.

It was several long moments before either of them spoke again, but when Nina broke the comfortable silence that had grown between them, she didn't pull away as Nadine had anticipated.

"I—I think…Mom, I think I understand part of what you were trying to do when you didn't tell me about…about all of this." Nadine struggled to keep her breath from hitching in relief as Nina hesitated again, finally pulling out of her mom's embrace to gesture loosely around to the Compound in general. "About how you wanted me to have a chance to be…normal." It wasn't quite what Nadine had expected to come up when Nina had approached her.

Although, honestly? Nadine hadn't been sure what she even suspected anymore. So in a way, she also wasn't surprised. Especially not after the way Nina had opened with her own measure of Enhancement.

In those early days, when Nina had all but refused to talk to Nadine, she'd thought it likely lingering ill-feeling toward her for her secrets. Or perhaps persisting fears or something else to do with her experiences in Sokovia, be it her captivity at either Ultron or Strucker's hands or the arguably near-death experience she'd had with the Quinjet. Flashbacks or the like. For a time, she'd wondered if it was to do with Nina's feelings for the Twins, be it her near immediate friendship with them both or her growing relationship with Pietro.

Nadine had even considered that she'd been grieving for the life she'd had before all of this.

Really, it was probably a combination of everything she'd considered and more over any one aspect.

And in retrospect, she should have considered that the Enhancement she'd passed to Nina would've bothered her too. She'd barely spoken of it that day save in passing to explain why Strucker had wanted Nina, and even then, she hadn't exactly said explicitly that Nina was technically Enhanced herself. Obviously, she should've considered that Nina would've picked up on that and put two and two together, and she was well within her rights to be bothered by it.

But this? Had it really gotten to her so much that she wasn't as 'normal' as she'd always believed herself to be? A little part of Nadine's heart broke at the idea.

That was her fault too. For voicing that she had hoped Nina would be normal where Nadine wasn't, back all those weeks before when she'd told Nina the truth about her past.

This distance had truly started that day, and while Nadine knew very well the reasons for Nina's withdrawal were far more complicated and numerous than just her reaction to one absently spoken hope, it had obviously had a far more significant impact on her daughter than Nadine had anticipated.

And obviously Nina had inherited more of Nadine's Enhancement than the blonde assassin had been willing to admit if Nina now noticed the proof of it in herself. Could it be that whatever experiments Strucker had been up to on that base of his had magnified what Nina had been born with? It was possible. Nadine hadn't really looked into the intel they'd had on Strucker's operation before Ultron had wiped most of it, just as she had yet to get an actual confirmation that Strucker had even had opportunity to begin his experiments on Nina. He hadn't had her all that long before the Avengers had attacked. Could he have had enough time to start preliminary procedures, like a treatment to boost what Enhancement Nina had been born with? It was possible. But Nadine couldn't be sure, especially since Nina had admitted on an earlier occasion when deflecting Nadine's attempts to get her to open up that she'd been unconscious for a significant portion of her time with Strucker.

Nadine didn't think there was a noticeable change in Nina's abilities that would indicate Strucker had done anything substantial. Her rate of healing had seemed pretty standard for her, so far as Nadine could tell, and she hadn't seemed any stronger or faster than before. But with the type of Enhancement in question, that didn't necessarily mean much. Pietro's healing factor had been slowed due to his injuries; perhaps something similar had happened with Nina? But in training, nothing in her performance had really stood out to Nadine as inconsistent with Nina's prior capabilities. Still, it wasn't like they had a particularly visible Enhancement. So it was possible. But if Strucker had managed to do something, it would go some way to explaining Nina's state in Sokovia, how worn and exhausted she had been. If her body had been adjusting to actual physiological changes? It made some amount of sense.

Or maybe it was just that Nina now knew to look for the traces of her inherited Enhancement.

Not that it ultimately mattered. Nadine meant what she said.

She didn't care if Nina was Enhanced or not, so long as she was safe and happy.

And now that she'd gotten this off her chest? Already she looked lighter, a psychological weight lifting and leaving Nina's eyes just a tad brighter and her frame just a little more relaxed. A flood of relief surged through Nadine at the realization, nearly making her hands tremble the feeling was so potent. Already, she could swear she could feel the gulf that had grown between them healing just a little bit more.

Nina looked up to Nadine again, her features tentatively hopeful even as certainty and a resolve appeared in her eyes that had Nadine's heart swelling further with pride.

"I think…I think I want to, well, not  _be_  normal, but to be, well…you know?" Nina made a face, unsatisfied with how she was expressing herself before pressing on. "I—I want to go to school—to university, like we'd been planning before..." Nadine's breath caught in her throat, and almost before she had entirely processed what Nina had said, she was nodding.

"Of course,  _solnyshko_ ," Nadine nearly burst out, her voice rough with relief and emotion, her hand rising to cup Nina's cheek. "If that is what you want, that is what we will do." A shuddering breath escaped Nina as a bright smile took over her features. But then she sobered, sending an anxious spasm through Nadine's own gut.

"But I…" she frowned, worry shadowing her features as she glanced to Nadine before sinking into thought, "what about applying? Registering? Accepting? I mean, I don't even know if I was accepted to any of the schools I applied to—and any letters would've arrived back in—and I don't even know if I could accept even if they…I mean, I can't use my, err…" she faltered then, looking up to Nadine with wide, dismayed eyes. "I can't be Nina Ryker anymore, can I. Not since…" At once Nadine understood, and once again, her relief was swelling in her chest despite Nina being so obviously disheartened by the reminder. Relief and admittedly amusement. Her tendency for preparation really was quite handy at times.

"I'm afraid not," Nadine agreed softly, her voice threaded with apology. Nina slumped. Only to straighten cautiously when she caught sight of the grin growing on her mother's face.

"That's why I made contingencies,  _solnyshko_." Nadine's grin widened at the astonished look on Nina's face. "Having multiple identities to fall back on is always a good idea, in my line of work."

Nina beamed at Nadine. But then it faded as another thought struck her.

"But, what about grades? Prerequisites? Applications? Term starts in another week or two. How could I even hope to apply in time?" But already she was growing thoughtful, her mind almost visibly kicking into gear. Nadine had to restrain another grin of pride at how quickly her daughter started looking for solutions. "Maybe…maybe, by winter term, I can build up the new identity enough that—" But she was cut off as Natasha all but plunked down onto the couch on Nina's other side, her vibrant green eyes positively gleaming with excitement of her own as she grinned at a startled Nina. Nadine could only glance between them with amusement. Especially when she noted the pride and calculation in Nat's gaze as she glanced to Nadine. Why wasn't she surprised that Natasha hadn't been able to restrain herself from joining in when she caught onto the change in mood.

"You let us handle that part, sweetie," Natasha said, sounding entirely too pleased as she tugged Nina around to face her directly. Nadine nearly rolled her eyes; of course her little sister had been eavesdropping too… Natasha spared her a pleased little smirk before turning her attention back to Nina. "Now. Where were you thinking of going?"

By the time Nina had skipped off to find the Twins, her excitement dampened only by nerves over telling her friends she was planning on leaving, Nadine's mind was buzzing with plans and mental lists of things she needed to do; get her hands on Nina's prior academic record; falsifying a new record to go with the identity she'd been building for her daughter; looking into Nina's previous applications and their statuses; seeing if she could figure out a way to discreetly switch any of those applications to Nina's new identity without raising any flags…

And the look on Natasha's face and the gleam in her eyes said clearly that her mind was similarly occupied.

At least, until she turned those gleaming green eyes to Nadine, the expression in them turning nearly mischievous.

"See?" Natasha declared leadingly, sounding entirely too chipper as she leaned back in her seat. "I told you it would all work out." Nadine could only huff in response. Honestly, she didn't know quite what to think just yet. She was still processing. Not that she wasn't thrilled at the turn of events.

"Natalia, it's— it's not going to be easy to get everything in line in tim—" But almost as soon as Nadine had started objecting, Natasha was waving off the cautioning words, her phone appearing in her hand.

"You worry too much," she dismissed, not looking up to her older sister. Nadine couldn't even be bothered to try and hide her incredulous look. It was only as Nat finished tapping at the screen and held the phone up to her ear that she finally met Nadine's eye, a smirk playing about her lips as her call connected.

"Hey, Tony. Listen, just out of curiosity, how much pull do you have at your alma mater?"


	81. Chapter 6

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Fall 2015**

Telling the Twins had not gone at all the way she had hoped.

She had rather hoped they would understand. Well, Wanda had. Nina had been immediately set upon with a tight hug and excitement from her friend on her behalf.

But then Wanda had sobered, tensing before turning to her twin.

Pietro had looked shocked. But what had really gotten to Nina was the hurt that had been flickering in his eyes and the confusion on his face.

"You want to leave us?"

It had gone downhill from there.

"So you're going to reject who you are?" He had accused at one point, utterly ignoring his twin's shocked protest. Nina had thrown her hands up then with a frustrated sound.

"I'm not rejecting—ugh! Just because I don't want to use my powers the way you and Wanda do doesn't mean I'm rejecting them, Pietro! I  _wanted_  to go away to school  _before_  all this happened to me. And I  _still_  want this! You keep telling me that I'm still me, I'm still who I was before, just with powers." She'd glared at him, and though the stubborn set of his features hadn't disappeared, it had eased as a shadow of contrition appeared. She had stepped forward then, taking his hand in hers, tracing her fingers lightly over his knuckles before meeting his eyes.

"Wouldn't I be rejecting who I am if I give up what I wanted, what I still want just because I have powers now?" The look he had given her had both confused and hurt her. It had been…pleading, unhappy. Conflicted.

And there had been anger glimmering there too.

He had pulled away from her then, and all but fled the Common Area.

Honestly, she was a little surprised she wasn't more shaken up by the whole thing. She was, but it was more that she was resigned on top of being hurt and disappointed. Or maybe she was just in shock.

While frustrated that Pietro couldn't try to be happy for her, on some level she supposed she could understand his reaction. Wanda had seen to that.

"He's afraid, Nina," the older girl had insisted patiently, her own annoyance at her brother's behaviour set aside for the time being. "He's afraid of losing you and he's afraid of being hurt. He's afraid you're going to leave and never come back, even though he knows it's ridiculous."

"I'm not about to abandon him, Wanda," Nina had bitten back, her own frustration clear. "I don't want to lose either of you, but I don't—Pietro—I…I care about him…a lot," she finished lamely. Wanda hadn't been able to hide her knowing, satisfied grin quickly enough. Nina had scowled, ensuring her power was keeping her thoughts safely hidden behind its hazy warmth. That hadn't been a topic she'd been ready to touch, yet.

But Wanda hadn't pressed or teased, simply linking her arm with Nina's and patting the back of her hand lightly.

"I know," she had soothed, "and he knows. But he can't help it." Wanda's tone had grown sad and her expression solemn. Of course Wanda would know. She felt the same way. She had the same instinctive fear of loss that her brother had. But she was proving better able to push past it than Pietro was. She was not only generally more rational than her brother—not that that said much at times—but she'd also been forced to face losing him in a way Pietro hadn't. It had forced her to grow up that little bit more than he had. Nina had sighed then. She'd known Wanda was right. She still did.

But it didn't make any of it any easier to deal with.

She wanted to alleviate Pietro's fears, but she didn't know how to do that short of giving him no reason to fear—she had no idea how to do that either, save by not leaving. Neither did she want to indulge his fear or give in to it. He needed to learn to deal with it himself, after all. She knew she couldn't just back down. She just couldn't do what she knew he wanted, even if he hadn't voiced the desire.

She knew he wanted her to stay. To be an Avenger like them. He'd grown used to having her with him and Wanda, nearly a part of them. And for all the bravado and careless arrogance he exuded, despite the way he seemed like nothing could get under his skin, in some ways, he feared losing what he held dear far more than Wanda did. Certainly far more than Nina did. Had Wanda lost Pietro that day in Novi Grad, it would have devastated her certainly, but she'd have kept putting one foot in front of the other. She would have soldiered on, her strong sense of pragmatism forcing her to find a purpose to get her through.

Pietro, Nina suspected, would have self-destructed.

For all that he didn't show it often, Pietro relied on Wanda to an extent that few seemed to realize, needing her presence and the unconscious reassurance only his twin, his other half, could provide more even than Wanda needed him. A means of support that Nina was coming to provide for him as well. He was getting better about standing on his own just as Wanda was, the training helping, and he no longer requiring the same physical closeness of his twin as he had even when Nina had first met them. But it was still there. It was for both of them. They'd been all the other had had for a long time. It wasn't an impulse that could just be turned off.

And just as Wanda was, he was just as privately uncertain about the permanence of their situation as his sister had once confessed to Nina. As much as they both wanted to believe they now had a home, people who genuinely cared, and a place to belong among the Avengers, they were still fighting the sum of their experiences. Nina knew Wanda was still half expecting to be told to leave every time she woke up in the morning, and she knew Pietro was still fighting the mindset that Stark was an enemy—admirably, of course, to the point where most of the Team believed him past his animosity toward the billionaire—but it still lingered. Whether they could help it or not, they were both just waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were, the trust issues they had with anyone who wasn't the two of them lingering in the backs of their minds.

And the prospect of Nina leaving now that Pietro had grown to care for her as much as he had? It was resulting in some very real apprehension on Pietro's part.

Wanda had explained all of that very clearly.

"To him, you are a part of us, now, Nina." As though it were as simple as that. "He just needs to adjust to the idea that even though you won't be just down the hall, you won't be gone, either."

It was leaving Nina just as apprehensive, with her wondering if she'd, well, broken them with her decision to refocus on her academic goals instead of continuing with Avenger training. He'd taken to leaning away from her and barely meeting her eye when they spoke. It was making training rather awkward at times, and she was sure everyone had noticed something was going on.

And just that morning he had even turned away from the light kiss she'd leaned in to place on his lips. That had stung.

At least he had yet to actually run from her, though she suspected there were times he was tempted to.

But he had flinched guiltily when she had drawn back with hurt and surprise. So perhaps he wasn't pulling away intentionally. Not that it made her feel all that much better. The impulse had still come from somewhere, after all. As much as she wanted to believe Wanda's insistence that he was just working through his own fears and insecurities, she couldn't help but fear it was more than that.

That he was genuinely upset with her for wanting to leave. That he couldn't understand why she'd want to give up what she had, and what she could have here at the Compound. That he believed, in wanting to go away, she wanted to leave it all behind.

Including him.

It was the only explanation that made sense to her. Why else would he be pulling away? If he were afraid to lose her, wouldn't he be trying to hold her tighter? Shouldn't he be trying to reassure himself that she wasn't leaving for good?

Could he really be so upset with her, mad at her even, for wanting to go away—to do something for herself—that he was willing to risk throwing away what they had, young as those feelings were? Anger and hurt bloomed in her chest at the thought. Could he really not comprehend  _why_  she wanted, even needed, to do this?

It was the same as his intent focus on Avenger training. Not only did he want to do it, but there was a  _need_  being fulfilled there too, and the promise of a purpose and belonging both he and his twin craved. Nina was even tempted to consider it a calling.

Well, school wasn't a calling for her exactly, but she could feel, deep in her gut, that her desire to be a bridge for those she cared about was.

He thought she didn't understand why staying was so important to him?

Surprisingly, she found she could. She just couldn't understand why he couldn't see her position too.

Wanting to do something beyond the Compound, something the Compound couldn't provide, was not the same as turning her back on it, or on them. She would never do that. Not even if she wanted to. She cared too much. For all of it. The place and the safety and comfort she had come to feel there. For the people. Her mom was here, after all, and her Aunt. She'd grown fond of Steve and the other Avengers, old and new. And she cared deeply for him and Wanda. Wanda had quickly become her dearest friend.

And Pietro? He was her—

She wasn't even entirely sure what they were, if she were being honest. They hadn't actually labelled it. Was it safe to think of him as her boyfriend? Could she call him that? She certainly cared for him enough to want to.

And if she could…could she still call him that?

She was fairly sure she could. Or at least, she was relatively sure whatever they were wasn't over. It was just a…a rough patch…

She huffed, slashing and stabbing at the page with her pen, nearly ripping the page as she tried to refocus back on the notes she was writing. Why did he have to be so…so…stubborn! Irrational!

Why did he have to be such a…boy!

Either way, it was making it very hard to study. While her mom and Natasha were apparently taking care of her identity and her academic history—something about repurposing or linking her previous one to her new name and effectively erasing the old one if she'd understood what little she'd overheard of their planning—she was still on the hook for passing the testing for her High School exit exams. All in time to sneak her into enrolment for Winter Term.

At MIT.

Her Aunt hadn't been kidding when she'd said she would take care of the school part. Nina had assumed that she'd meant she'd be doing something tricky to bump a new application or to sneak it in among others. She hadn't anticipated that Natasha would somehow manage to get Nina full-out accepted pending her final exam results. She didn't even have to reapply.

"What's the point in having a famous alumna as a friend if I can't get him to pull some strings for my niece," her Aunt had waved off with a sly grin. "Besides, when does Tony not enjoy using his influence? He's too much of a primadonna to pass up on the opportunity." Further, it also meant Nina had gotten a particularly exuberant greeting from Tony Stark when he'd popped into the Compound to 'check up' the week before. An arm around her shoulder and a thrilled declaration that she was bound to follow in his genius footprints had felt particularly surreal when the arm in question had belonged to the one and only Tony Stark. Her mom had actually rolled her eyes at the show. Pietro had bristled. For more than one reason. Wanda had insisted that it was jealousy in addition to his lingering resentment toward Stark. Nina tried to let herself believe that.

All in all, it meant she was well and truly buried behind the mountain of textbooks, notebooks, papers and two laptops she was currently surrounded by. She had a lot of material to get through, and distractions were most certainly not her friend.

One thing was certain. This? All her guessing and worrying and wondering about Pietro was getting her nowhere. It was the very definition of 'distraction.'

Which left one option.

She had to talk to him. And he wasn't going to get out of it. She smirked as she extricated herself from her nest of study materials.

And Nina now had a trick up her sleeve that she'd been practicing with Wanda that she could use if he tried to avoid talking about this.

As luck would have it, Wanda was easy to find. The older girl similarly buried in her own study materials in the Common Area, though hers took the form of mission files spread out across the coffee table and the orange couch she was sitting in front of. She looked up as Nina approached, grinning faintly.

"He's over there," she said with an absent gesture off behind her before Nina could even open her mouth. Nina frowned, her eyes narrowing, earning a smirk from the older girl. Wanda tapped a ringed finger on her temple. Nina's frown deepened. She could feel her powers wrapped around her like a comfy sweater. Wanda shouldn't have been able to see her thoughts or her intentions. But even as her frown deepened, Wanda's grin widened.

"You're distracted and frustrated—and worried too, I think—and when you are, they go up. And right now?" She shot Nina a knowing look even as she nodded back toward Pietro, "right now my brother's being an idiot. It's not hard to guess there's a correlation." Nina's nose wrinkled. Was she really so transparent? Nina wasn't sure she liked that idea…she didn't think she was. She stole a glance at Pietro. He was sprawled out on their red couch across the room, his own pile of files stacked haphazardly next to him. Wanda leaned back against the couch behind her as a satisfied smirk made its way onto her face.

"Therefore," Wanda said looking frustratingly pleased with herself, "it wasn't too hard to figure out that you were looking for him, especially with that determined look on your face," she finished, her finger making a loose, wiggly pointing gesture toward Nina's face as she did.

"Nat would be so proud," Nina muttered. Wanda just laughed as she waved Nina over toward Pietro, her fingers flashing in the fluorescent lights.

"Go," she said instead, her grin wide and amused. "Talk some sense into him." Nina scoffed out an unconvinced sound. Wanda's grin grew sly. "Don't worry. I softened him up for you." The offhanded comment was what finally drew a smile to Nina's face, and with an absent wave, she continued past Wanda toward Pietro.

As soon as he saw her, he tensed, pulling himself up with a wary but curious expression. Not quite able to look at him directly just yet, she reached down to shift his pile of files further down the couch, making herself a spot.

And as she sat, she finally looked up to him. "Pietro? We should…talk." No sooner had the words left her mouth than he was suddenly tensing. And for a split-second, she was afraid he was preparing to bolt. A stab of uncertainty and hurt went through Nina, but she pushed it aside.

Especially at the kindred flicker of uncertainty and worry in his eyes.

It was long past time they stopped dancing around this.

So she called on the warm, hazy feeling that had so quickly become as much a part of her, the hand she used to focus her intentions with rising subtly.

The air around them wavered and tingled and Pietro was suddenly looking to her with a mix of confusion, annoyance and, begrudgingly, interest.

"What did you do?" he demanded. She shrugged lightly, affecting a nonchalance she didn't entirely feel.

"We all have our tricks," she teased lightly as he sank back onto the couch, narrowing his eyes at her. She nearly giggled at the thoughtful look. "Wanda can move things with her mind. You go really fast," she hedged, leading him as she saw his mind working, further sparking his curiosity.

"And you stop things," he offered as she paused pointedly, understanding lighting his face, especially as he waved his hand in front of him…at a regular, normal human speed. Grinning, she nodded, looking down to her own hand before flexing her fingers gently. Around them, the air wavered faintly, the dome-like field around them her powers had created thickening and growing faintly visible before fading as she released it.

"Natasha was hypothesizing the other day that I might not just be capable of creating shields, if you will, but that I'm a—a neutralizer. I 'inhibit' things, apparently," she explained, enjoying the way—for the moment, at least—things felt almost they way they had before Nina had made her decision. She let herself relax slightly back into the couch cushions. "Like how I can block Wanda's telepathy."

"So you, what, inhibited me?" he asked with a wry grin. Smiling she nodded, but the expression faltered as trepidation was once again edging in. There was nothing for it, so she dove right in, bringing them back around to their much needed talk.

"I didn't want you running from me." He started at the confession. Frowning, his eyes went wide.

"Why would I run?" But almost as soon as he said it, he winced. Nina tugged the pillow next to her into her lap, absently twisting the corner as she clutched it close to her abdomen.

"You've been…not avoiding me, exactly, but you haven't been all that eager to be around me either," she confirmed. "Not since I told you I wanted to…" He fidgeted as she fell silent, knowing she didn't need to explain further.

"I don't mean to," he said quietly, even defensively. "I just…" he trailed off with a frustrated sound. He slumped back further into the cushions. It summed up how Nina felt too. She reached out to take his hand. But he fidgeted again, pulling it out of easy reach. She bit her lip against another sting of hurt.

"Then why do you do it," she blurted, turning so that she was facing him directly, pulling her legs up to cross in front of her. "Are you that angry with me?" He started again, his wide, bewildered eyes snapping to her.

"What? I—no…" he straightened, turning to face her as well. "I…" but no more words came, and his eyes dropped from hers. Nina bit back a frustrated sound of her own.

"You are, aren't you," she prompted dejectedly, her fists pressing against her crossed ankles from around the cushion, her elbows pressing in tight against her ribs. He hazarded a glance toward her face, but didn't quite make it. He picked at the knee of his pants; charcoal with a red stripe today, she noted absently.

"Maybe a little," he admitted softly, his tone faintly bitter for all that it sounded miserable. Nina deflated.

"Why? Pietro, I'm not leaving forever," she asked, a little annoyed that she sounded so sad and confused, but nevertheless satisfied since it seemed to get through to him. Remorse was suddenly very clear on his face and in the way his shoulder slumped. "I just…I just want to go to school, like I wanted to before. I don't want to give that up because of what happened to me."

"I know," he said, sounding contrite but distinctly unhappy. Though it was with some trepidation, she had to admit she believed he meant it. This time, when he looked up to her, he was able to meet her eye. "I know, I do. But I…" he made another frustrated sound as he looked away again, his eyes darting sightlessly around the Common Area as his thoughts battled behind his eyes. He carded his fingers roughly through his hair.

"You what," she pressed when he didn't continue. He glanced back to her, his eyes flashing with emotion too quickly for her to read. He scowled then, but there was something half-hearted to the expression. But then the angry look broke.

"I just don't understand why you would want to pretend to be normal. You're not," he said almost plaintively. "You're going to have to, you know. Hide it away, keep it secret?"

It was then that it hit her. She didn't know what it was precisely that he'd said—maybe it was just how he'd said it—but she knew. He wasn't just concerned she was leaving but that she might be rejecting who she was by going away to school. More than that, he was afraid she was rejecting all of it…including him… That she might be rejecting him because he wasn't 'normal.' He thought she wanted 'normal.' Just 'normal.'

That's what finally made it all click, her Aunt's lessons and her own instincts snapping into action.

He was acting defensively. That's what this all was. Wanda had been right; silly that she should have doubted considering that Wanda knew Pietro best, Nina absently scolded herself.

Pietro really was preparing himself—unconsciously or on purpose, she wasn't sure, though she suspected in that moment that it was the former—to be left behind. Forgotten.

Abandoned.

Wanda hadn't been kidding when she'd pointed out that they had abandonment issues. It made her heart ache even as her frustration flared.

She wasn't about to drop him just because she was going off to school. Because he wasn't 'normal.' She cared about him too much. They'd been through too much together.

She was even pretty sure she might love him.

But the warm, fluttery feeling in her chest at the thought just made her feel sad in that moment. It didn't change the fact that, on some level, he had a very real fear that she wouldn't come back that hadn't eased no matter how many times he'd been assured otherwise. Nina sighed, her strangle-hold on her cushion loosening, once again fiddling with a corner.

"I know," she admitted, unable to keep her distaste at the idea out of her voice completely, "but it's not forever. I'm not looking to be normal, Pietro." All at once, she felt emotionally drained. "I'm…I'm looking for balance. I want to find a way to be both the old me and the new me. I—Pietro, can you honestly see me being happy as an Avenger?" He didn't need to answer. She could see it in his eyes. He begrudgingly knew she was right.

"I need to figure this out," she said, gesturing loosely out at the Compound and beyond. Pietro's head inadvertently tilted in consideration, frowning slightly through the miserable expression on his face.

"Figure what out?"

"Me," she answered, "and I can't do that unless I learn how the new me fits in both the normal world and this one. And to do that? I have to spend some time out there too." He sighed, his face falling even as he nodded his understanding. Nina reached out, tentatively lacing her fingers with his. She nearly sagged with relief when, instead of pulling away like he had been, his grip tightened minutely on hers.

"I don't want to leave this world anymore," she insisted with a small smile, one that had his own lips tugging. "But I need to figure out where I fit. I need to figure out how to fit. Before…" she paused, organizing her thoughts, trying to find a better way to explain what she hadn't been able to for her mom. Pietro's fingers tightened on hers, and she spared his an appreciative look before continuing. "Before Sokovia, I was…I was my Mom's link to 'normal.' I…I think I helped ground her, even helped her keep her…herself." She wrinkled her nose at the way it came out, but it got the point across. He had grown thoughtful, watching her with intent, considering eyes. She squeezed his fingers back, smiling hopefully at him.

"I think that's what I can do for all of you, what I want to do," she explained. "I don't want to fight, but I can help you all anyway, in my own way. I can help ground you all. I can listen when you need to talk. I can…distract you with the mundane when the ridiculous gets to be a little too much," she said with a faintly teasing grin, before growing sincere again, "I can be your little link to normal in all this craziness." Pietro huffed out a soft chuckle, granting with a small nod that she had a point.

"It is pretty crazy, yeah," he offered softly, eying her tentatively. She couldn't help it. She laughed a little at the comment. Some of the tension visible in his shoulders began to ease at the sound. He eyed her thoughtfully then, his gaze tracing her features even as his free hand reached up to brush back a strand of her hair.

"You're not leaving," he said softly, the tone making it clear he was reassuring himself, "not for good." She nodded, smiling hopefully at him. Was it too much to hope that they finally understood one another on this?

"We will visit lots, no? It's a short trip…well, for me at least," he self-corrected even as she opened her mouth to do it. She laughed at the sudden and welcome return of his confident demeanour.

"I'm expecting it," she responded with a grin. He smirked, but then his features grew solemn, his hand cupping her jaw as he met her eye.

"I will try harder," he murmured, his tone laced with apology and determination. Nina's breath hitched, emotion filling her throat at how earnestly he meant it. The only response she could manage was to kiss him, saying what she wanted to without words. As she pulled away, her hand lingering where it had risen to curl around his neck, Pietro smirked, though the expression was more relieved than anything.

And he leaned in himself, pressing his lips to hers. With a soft sigh, she melted into the kiss, her arm rising to slide across his shoulders as one of his came to rest on her knee, the other beginning to tangle in her pale hair.

"I take it this means you've worked things out?"

At once they were jumping apart, both flushed and breathless, at Wanda's dry tone. They both looked up to see her smirking down at them, her arms full of mission files.

Files that she unceremoniously dropped on her twin's lap so she could gather up the ones he'd been working through.

"Time to trade," she said sweetly as she turned to head back to her chosen work area. Only to pause, glancing back at them over her shoulder. "Oh, Nina? I don't think practicing kissing with my brother counts as studying," she said with a sly look at the younger girl. Nina flushed but flipped Wanda a rude gesture in response, causing her the brunette to snicker as she walked away.

But Nina had to begrudgingly admit she was right. She needed to get back to her own studying. The days were counting down, and she needed to put in a good show on her tests.

So she reluctantly pulled herself from Pietro's embrace, biting back a giggle at the dismayed and offended look he was giving the stack of files on his lap.

Taking pity on him, she leaned in to lay a quick peck on his cheek. And as he grinned appreciatively back at her, she left him to his task to return to her own


	82. Chapter 7

This was not good. Not good at all, on so many levels. It had to stop.

But no matter how Nadine laid on the self-admonishment or tried to talk sense into her rogue subconscious, it wasn’t working.

Her mind just did not seem to understand that it was highly inappropriate to wonder what it would feel like to have Steve’s arms wrapped around her for reasons _other_ than sparring. The fact that they were very strong and attractive arms was beside the point. As was the appeal of the shoulders and torso they were attached to. And those warm, ocean-hued eyes? The fact that a distracting but pleasant flutter woke in her chest when their owner smiled at her was something she needed to get better at ignoring.

Dammit, why did she have to be attracted to him of all people, she scolded herself internally. “Completely ridiculous,” she muttered to herself in agreement.

Only, not all of her agreed on that, and therein lay the problem.

When had things started to change? When had she become so comfortable around him? When had he become so comfortable around her? Nadine wasn’t even sure. She couldn’t pinpoint one certain moment that had started… _this_.

Perhaps it was one of those moments of tense but still somehow comfortable silence when Nina had been recovering when they’d simply stood together in mutual vigil. Perhaps it had been the first time he’d genuinely smiled at her after their conversation on the Helicarrier, when she’d truly begun to allow herself to believe that they could move past what had happened on the way to Seoul. Or maybe that moment after she’d helped pull him back onto the lifeboat, when everything else had fallen away and they’d simply looked at each other, both knowing what they had narrowly escaped. Maybe even before all of that, when he’d promised that he and the Avengers would help her find Nina.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was when he’d given her some hope that she could—maybe—find some small measure of redemption for what had happened with Barnes. When Steve, despite his lingering reservations, had put his doubts aside and had asked her to find _him_. When she knew that he wanted to trust her again no matter how much she believed she didn’t deserve it.

She simply didn’t know.

Her life was already complicated enough. Why did this have to happen on top of everything else?

And it was made all the worse because of Barnes.

Barnes was Steve’s best friend. And Barnes was the father of her daughter.

Everything else aside, that alone made her blooming feelings for Rogers all the more complicated and problematic.

It was a big part of the reason why she was having so much trouble opening the door.

And it had all come about because her stomach had flipped happily as her hand had risen to the brushed metal handle. And she had foolishly paused to examine the reaction.

It had all snowballed from there.

She’d been forced to confront the idea that she was growing to _like_ Steve Rogers. In a very non-platonic sort of way. Very much against her better judgement. Infatuation of any kind for her was a very bad idea, for so many reasons. Especially an infatuation with him for the very obvious reasons she’d already contemplated at length.

Why was she even allowing herself to think on this? She knew better, she was trained better. She had been trained to be capable of pushing all self and sentiment aside. To be rational and logical and…

The problem was that part of her _liked_ the idea…

She pushed the traitorous thought away. It was not going to happen. Nothing was going to happen, she reminded herself.

Unfortunately that rebellious little part of her wasn’t wholly convinced.

Especially not since she stood, rooted to the spot with her hand frozen on the handle of Steve’s office door. The office she knew held the very object of her conflicted thoughts and emotions.

Him and her sister.

She swallowed back an aggravated groan. How was she going to keep her sister’s nose out of this? Nadine wasn’t blind. She’d seen her sister eying Nadine and Steve with a scheming sort of speculation on more than one occasion as far back as the party in the Avengers’ Tower when Ultron had revealed himself. And she’d heard from the Captain himself that Natasha had a bad habit of trying to play matchmaker for him.

As if this wasn’t already complicated enough… She really wasn’t keen on the idea of having to fend off Natasha’s attempts to set them up…any more than she already was, at least.

Especially since that traitorous little part of her she was still trying to deny existed wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

She huffed impatiently at herself. This hesitance and her inability to control her emotions really was ridiculous. Steeling her nerve and forcefully shoving her problematic emotions aside, she pushed the door open.

As she anticipated, Steve and Natasha stood inside the office joined, she realized, by Sam Wilson. Nadine bit back a faint groan that there was yet another person in the room to guard herself against before that thought too was pushed aside.

Technically the room, with its utilitarian yet still chic modern furnishings and wall of windows looking out at the Compound’s lawn was designated Steve’s office. But it didn’t really feel like it. Steve wasn’t really a desk sort of guy, after all. So it always felt like they were just using someone else’s space, like they were intruding, even. But still, it was a handy place to meet for private discussions best kept to themselves.

As she anticipated from previous experience, no one actually sat at the desk, though Nadine wouldn’t be surprised if Nat had been at one point given where she stood leaning against the short edge of the desk closest to the bank of windows. Steve was similarly leaning against the low row of shelves and their built-in cabinets just beyond Natasha, looking out the window as the three of them spoke quietly. Sam, meanwhile, stood next to Natasha, his back to Nadine, with his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he chuckled at something her sister said. And Natasha smiled back, what little Nadine could see from her sister’s profile giving her a moment’s pause.

Truthfully? Nadine wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her sister so easy around someone else, save herself and perhaps Rogers. Not even Bruce had put her so at ease. And Nadine had wondered if there had been true potential with the doctor. But this was something…different.

It was then that the door clicked shut behind her, the sound seeming painfully loud to her ears as it jolted her from her train of thought.

“Nadine.” At once, three sets of eyes had turned to the blonde assassin, Steve gesturing for her to join them. As she approached, Nadine couldn’t help but notice the subtle way her little sister shifted away from Wilson. That was interesting… But she willed herself not to react, knowing that, were Natasha to realize she’d noticed something was up, the redhead would be on her guard. Then how was Nadine supposed to learn anything?

As she approached the trio, though, her thoughts were pulled away from whatever was going on between Natasha and Sam.

“You find anything?” Steve was trying hard not to appear too anxious, but Nadine could see it in the tightness around his eyes and mouth and hear it in his tone. Slowly she shook her head, her lips parting as a response began to build on her tongue. Only to tense as her eyes fell on Sam. At once her instincts to shut down resurfaced with a vengeance from where she’d been training herself to lock them away. The words died on her tongue.

“Nadine,” Natasha questioned then, noticing her sister’s reaction instantly. Steve picked up on it a moment later, Natasha’s cautious tone clueing him in.

“It’s okay, Ryker,” the Captain reassured. “Sam’s in on this. He was already helping me track Bucky before you came on board.” It didn’t exactly help, but Nadine forced herself to pretend it had, though the anxious tension wasn’t interested in draining away in the least. Nevertheless, she forced it aside, shooting Steve a wan grin before shaking loose what she’d been preparing to share.

“No new leads on where he might be,” she admitted bitterly, before tossing the one thing of value she had found to Steve, “but I did find these.” He caught it easily, frowning faintly at her before his fingers opened for him to examine it closer. His eyes went wide as he realized what he held, his gaze snapping to Nadine.

“His tags?” His tone was thick with disbelief and wonder. Nadine nodded in confirmation. Not that Steve needed it when he had Barnes’ dog tags lying in the palm of his hand.

“They were the only thing worth finding in that place, really,” Nadine said, her disappointment clear in her voice. Natasha frowned at the comment.

“Nothing in their records?” Nadine shook her head at her sister’s question.

Her mission had been to pay a visit to one of HYDRA’s older record repositories, this one hidden in an old base in the Alps. It was one Nadine hadn’t come across before, until she’d dug it up from one of the intelligence stashes she’d found while tying up Madame B’s loose ends. After discussing it with Natasha and the Captain—Steve’s help in strategic analysis along with his working knowledge of WWII-era HYDRA bases proving invaluable—and thanks to Steve’s observation that Barnes had gone missing in the Austrian Alps, it was decided that it wasn’t an opportunity they could afford to pass up. Natasha had even posited that it might very well have been the base Barnes had been treated in initially after he’d been found. Perhaps even where his indoctrination had begun.

Well? She hadn’t been wrong. Before it had been converted into a records storage facility, it had been an active base complete with the facilities necessary to treat Barnes after his fall from the train. So it was possible. But whether or not his programming had begun there was far less certain.

Nadine had hoped the old base might prove a lost treasure trove of intelligence, but it had instead proven to be little more than a dud. There had been a single case file on the Winter Soldier, the individual files inside containing little more than old information Nadine already had; a few of his earlier mission files.

The only valuable thing she had learned was that the document she’d privately dubbed the Austria File was, in fact, a real document, it having been listed on the Winter Soldier’s case file index sheet. It was the main reason she’d wanted to investigate that base as eagerly as she had. She’d wanted that file for a long time. If she was right? It was his Asset Intake file, and should contain, among other valuable intel, details about his transition from James Barnes to the Winter Soldier. There were no other copies that she could find, and no digital record save a single notation in one secure server that it existed. And that had been unverified. Frustratingly, though, the file in question had been missing.

So, beyond an incontrovertible confirmation that the file existed, the tags were the only other thing of value she’d found there. They’d been tucked in an envelope at the bottom of the disappointingly thin master folder.

So while it had been an overall bust, her mission hadn’t quite been a total loss. Looking at Steve’s face? It was worth it, even if the only thing she’d retrieved was effectively a sentimental keepsake.

“Nothing we didn’t already know,” Nadine said. “I took copies anyway to do a deep dive, and I notified Stark’s people so they could go in and catalogue the place, but I’m not expecting much.” Her expression grew cool them, her eyes glinting. “Didn’t get much from the facility’s supervisor or his agents either. At least, nothing interesting…or relevant.” Next to Natasha, Sam swallowed nervously, glancing to the redhead. She shot him a sympathetic look before turning back to Nadine. Steve was still staring at the dog tags, though his fingers were now fisted tightly around them, his jaw just as tense as his fingers. Nadine’s mask broke at the near reverent, determined look on his face.

Yeah. They held value enough to make the trip worth it.

After a moment he pulled himself back from wherever his thoughts had disappeared, his controlled demeanour firmly back in place as he looked to Nadine.

“What next?”

“Dig through what I found there with a fine-toothed comb?” she offered. “At this point, the most promising avenue I can think of is to try and locate any more HYDRA archives or secure records depositories, really. And even though I’m still looking, tracking him directly is all but a dead end right now. He’s took good at disappearing. I do have a safehouse angle I want to try working on that Clint suggested last time Nat talked to him,” she nodded toward her sister at her mention of the idea, earning a faint, distracted smile in return, “but I don’t have any guarantees that anything will come of it.”

Absently Steve nodded, considering her assessment. Only to look up as Sam cleared his throat, reaching to the desk behind Natasha to pick up an older file sitting on top of a neatly stacked pile of newer ones.

Nadine’s gut was suddenly twisting, completely unable to so much as draw breath in anxious anticipation as she caught a glimpse of the cover.

It was Russian.

With a look to Steve, Sam held out the old KGB Asset file to Nadine. Steve looked on, his expression curiously apologetic but intent as he watched the file exchange hands.

Beginning to feel light-headed, Nadine all but snatched the file from Sam, looking incredulously between him, Steve and Natasha.

“The Austria file?” The three of them frowned at Nadine’s incredulous outburst, Natasha sparing a quick glance to Steve in confusion. But Nadine barely registered that her personal name for the file had thrown them off. “This is the Austria File! Where did you get this? I’ve been trying to get my hands on it for ages. It took me years to figure out if it even existed.” She was suddenly eying the three of them with narrowed, piercing eyes, her attention finally settling on Natasha thanks to the gleam that appeared in the younger spy’s gaze. “It’s missing. The _only_ copy is missing; it was supposed to be at the repository I just hit.” Steve and Sam exchanged a startled look; Nadine hadn’t told them that. Natasha merely grinned, an eyebrow raising in amusement.

“You’re not the only one with connections,” she said casually, a sly glint in her eyes, “and I didn’t burn all my bridges quite so spectacularly when I cut ties with the KGB.” Nadine could only wrinkle her nose in annoyance at the comment, severely tempted to stick out her tongue petulantly at her little sister. Only for her eyes to narrow again as another thought hit her.

“Wait, _where_ did you get this,” she asked, holding up the file, “exactly.” Natasha shrugged, though her eyes grew veiled.

“An old handler,” she said, her tone guarded and strictly business, “one who made his way up the food chain of the KGB and on into one of the more elite secret Russian Intelligence Agencies when the Soviet Union fell.”

“HYDRA?” Nadine asked softly. Natasha met her eye, her thoughts carefully hidden away. She knew what Nadine was asking without words: was he the one who had been tasked to recruit Natasha to HYDRA? At first Natasha didn’t seem inclined to answer. But then she nodded sharply.

“Probably. He was definitely shady, at the very least, and I had to press some pretty risky buttons to convince him to get that for me.” She’d blackmailed him. Nadine could read that between the lines easily enough. But then Natasha smirked. “But that’s all water under the bridge,” she said with a sly, ruthless grin that piqued Nadine’s interest.

“How so?” She suspected even as she asked that she already knew the answer. Natasha’s eyes glittered.

“Not only was he picked up and locked up by Interpol shortly after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, but he was on one of your lists. And he didn’t make the final cut,” she said happily. Nadine couldn’t help the grin that spread across her own face. She glanced back down to the file in her hands, flipping it open. Two photos were pinned to the inside cover, one of Barnes in cryofreeze, and a smaller one from before HYDRA had gotten their hands on him. She traced a finger along the edge of the photo, captivated by how different a person he seemed from the picture alone.

“Well,” she said softly, glancing up to meet her sister’s eye, “then it all worked out.” Natasha’s smirk widened, and the tension that had begin spreading through her frame was once again easing.  

But then a frown was once again overtaking Nadine’s features as she looked between the two photos. She looked up to Steve, feeling her face growing guarded as she did. She didn't make an effort to stop it.

“Why didn’t you share this before?” She asked softly, her voice sounding nearly gentle despite her distinctly controlled tone. Steve’s neck began to flush, but he met her wary gaze levelly. Nadine pointedly ignored the twinge of hurt in her chest. Natasha had given this to him who knew how long ago, and he'd kept it from her. He still didn't wholly trust her.

Not that she could exactly blame him…

“Honestly? I’d nearly forgotten we had it. And then once I’d remembered—” he was interrupted when Natasha pointedly cleared her throat, fixing Steve with a raised brow and the trace of a smirk on her lips. Sparing her an apologetic, even abashed grin, Steve raised his hands slightly in surrender before continuing, “okay, once I was reminded we still had it, I, well…” his expression grew more serious as he looked to Nadine, some of what Nadine had come to consider his ‘Captain’ persona coming out. “I wanted to see what you would do once you had a lead before I handed it over. I wanted to see how serious you were about finding him,” he said softly. The twinge deepened, but Nadine pushed it away again. It was a logical explanation. Arguably, his willingness to trust her as he had been already was a leap of faith enough considering the rocky ground they’d been on after Seoul. Surely he was allowed to exercise a measure of caution…a moment of doubt. It was his oldest and closest friend they were talking about, after all, and he effectively hadn’t known her at all when he’d charged her to find Barnes. It could even be said that, for all their recent friendliness, he still barely knew her.

It didn’t stop it from hurting though. Just a little.

But then Nadine frowned, looking down to the file in her hand and the frozen face and the smaller, gently smiling one staring up at her from the file’s inside cover. Her finger traced absently along his face as she sank into thought. This trip to Austria had been her first real mission specifically in her search for Barnes since joining up with Steve and Natasha. Just the sort of lead Steve had likely been thinking of. And Steve had the file ready and waiting. She looked up to the Captain, a tentative flicker of hope lighting amid the ache she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Yet you had this here. Now. Ready to give to me as soon as I got back…whether I'd found anything or not.” Steve shrugged, suddenly looking nearly…contrite.

“Well, to be honest, it didn’t take me long to re-evaluate my decision to hold it back.” He glanced to Natasha, who was watching the Captain with an intent expression. Nadine frowned at the exchange. Steve cleared his throat before looking back to Nadine. “I was going to give it to you as soon as Sam had a chance to collect it. Then your mission came up,” he admitted.

“Didn’t help that I’d left the file back in DC,” Sam added apologetically. “I pretty much have everything in it that Nat translated for us memorized, so I haven’t been carting it around for a few months now; locked it up in a safety deposit box. And we didn’t want to tip our hand by uploading it anywhere, ‘case someone else was watching. I didn’t really catch the urgency when Steve here asked me to bring it back with me last time I was home. Earlier this week was the first chance I had to grab it since then.” Nadine’s frown deepened.

“The last time you went back to DC was, what, a month ago?” Her question was met with a sheepish wince.

“Month and a half,” he corrected. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

The hurt was quickly beginning to fade as the strangely warm little flutter woke in her stomach as Steve gave her a renewed apologetic look of his own.

“I didn’t want to bring it up without the file,” he explained. That was fair, she supposed. She knew very well her impatience would’ve gotten the better of her had she know they had it but been forced to wait until Sam could retrieve it. She probably would’ve done something drastic, honestly, like gone to DC and broken into wherever Sam had secreted it away.

She looked to Steve thoughtfully, her features still carefully controlled. “What changed?” The question was all but blurted out before she could help herself. Steve didn’t answer for a moment, studying her levelly back. Sam and Natasha just watched the pair of them in silence, the redheaded spy looking rather like she was watching a sports match, she was so enthralled. Finally Steve shrugged.

“I got to know you,” he said simply. The intensity of that distracting warm flutter intensified, especially as he smiled wryly.

It was quickly getting to the point where her weekly sparring sessions with Steve were one of the highlights of her week. As was the coffee or lunch they’d headed off to a couple times now afterward. Sure, it was just the Avengers Common Room they would retreat to, but the conversation and the company was good. They seemed to speak of everything and nothing, and Nadine felt she was finally getting to know him too. She had even heard most of what Natasha had told her about Barnes from Steve himself, now. And more. And she had told him about Nina and her life in Vienna. Generally they stayed away from other aspects of her past, but that too had ultimately come out in some capacity. Only her past with Barnes had been effectively off-limits, neither particularly keen on revisiting the topic.  

And he had listened, without censure—something that had part of her still reeling—and things between her and the Captain were admittedly better for it.

Really, if she were being completely honest, her afternoons with Steve were becoming one of the things she looked forward to most, coming ever closer to her lunchdates with Nina and Natasha and the odd afternoon she stole away from the Compound with her daughter as something she anticipated happily in the course of a week.

His smile grew amused and he stole a glance to Natasha as her sister subtly cleared her throat. “And really,” he continued as Natasha smirked with satisfaction, nearly causing Nadine to roll her eyes at her little sister, “as someone recently pointed out to me, you’ve already more than proved yourself. You did stay, after all,” he pointed, growing serious. “You could’ve taken Nina and run as soon as she was cleared the way everyone expected. But you didn’t.” He was so sincere her breath caught. But she pushed the feeling aside. Infatuation wasn’t a good thing, she forcefully reminded herself.

Again.

“I didn’t expect it,” Natasha broke in smugly, her arms crossing over her chest, “I knew she’d stick around.” This time, Nadine really did roll her eyes at her sister’s antics.

“Well, that makes one of us,” Nadine teased dryly back. Natasha only barely restrained a snicker.

Next to Natasha Steve was fighting to hold back a grin of his own before nodding toward the file in her hand, bringing them back around to the topic at hand.

“Think it’ll help?” She smiled at his question.

“I’ll let you know. In the meantime,” she turned, snatching up the tablet she had spied laying on the desk as she spoke, “I may have another lead.” As she straightened, she took note of both Rogers and Natasha’s eager faces, especially the anxious hope in Steve’s eyes. Her stomach flopped uncomfortably as she turned her attention back to the intel she was pulling up from the Compound’s server; something she had come across and dug into on the trip home. “Not on Barnes personally, but on another possible avenue.” She fought not to wince as they both seemed to deflate, the Captain visibly setting aside his disappointment. But quickly enough they were both all business, the pair of Avengers looking to the intel Nadine handed them. She’d been poking through some underworld chatter to pass the time and get her mind off the rather disappointing outcome of her mission. She hadn’t expected to actually find anything of interest. “I believe you’ve met.”

Steve looked up to Nadine in surprise as he read the name displayed on the screen’s file heading.

“Rumlow?” he asked, his tone hard to decipher. Nadine nodded. At once his expression hardened. Nadine had to fight not to grin. She knew she'd been into something.

“Goes by Crossbones, now,” she elaborated, breaking down what she’d found out and compiled in the file she’d pulled up for them. “He’s broken with HYDRA, too, not that there’s much to break with right now. He’s gone rogue; operates as a gun for hire along with his crew. I don’t think I need to tell you, but since he was running support for the Winter Soldier in DC? He might know something that could help.” Nat had been watching Nadine thoughtfully as she spoke, finally turning to Steve when she fell silent. The Captain was skimming through the file as he listened, finally looking up to meet Natasha’s eye before looking back to Nadine. Sam watched the three of them with a serious, assessing look on his face. Steve straightened after a moment of thought.

“It’s worth a shot,” he admitted, his voice turning serious in a way that indicated he’d shifted to ‘Captain’ mode as he handed the tablet to Natasha. “And even if it is a dead end, with what he’s been doing since breaking with HYDRA? He was bound to show up on our radar at some point; he needs to be stopped whether he can help lead us to Bucky or not.”

“Agreed,” Natasha added seriously, all hint of her scheming smirk gone as she too turned to business mode. She glanced between Steve and Nadine, then. “I think we should bring the Twins in on this one,” she continued, “it's time they got some field experience.” Nadine couldn't help her hesitation; she wasn't sure they were quite ready. But Steve seemed to agree with Natasha, nodding as the two Avengers exchanged a look.

“Alright,” he confirmed. “The Maximoffs are in on this one. Sam?” He turned to the former paratrooper with a questioning look. Sam didn't even hesitate.

“No question. I'm in. Besides,” he added with a confident grin, “the guy’s a right bastard. I wouldn't mind another go at him.” Steve chuckled, and Nadine couldn't help but grin.

She pointedly ignored the way her stomach flipped happily at the sound.


	83. Chapter 8

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Fall 2015**

Flopping down on the couch in her and her mom's suite, Nina finally felt like she could breathe again.

Her exams were over. Done. She was officially done with high school the way she should have been back in the spring. Over the last couple days, her mom had taken her in to sit the tests—her new identity as Nina Thomson passing inspection flawlessly—and now all that was left to do was wait on the results. Though nervous as she always was in that anxious span between putting down her pen and learning her grades, Nina found herself far more confident in her results than she usually was. She was sure she had done well.

With the Twins occupied the last several weeks with the Avengers' latest mission—tracking down and neutralizing a rogue contractor going by the name Crossbones—she'd been throwing herself into studying, to the point where she was fairly sure she could recite some of her textbooks off by heart.

She was pretty sure she had never studied so hard in her life. She hadn't wanted to waste all the work that had gone into ensuring she still had a chance at getting into MIT. She'd found out since Nat had first revealed they'd gotten her in pending her exams just what all had gone into getting her in.

She'd known that Stark had played a role, of course—he'd been quite vocal about it, really—but it was only in the last week, shortly before she was set to sit the tests that she'd found out precisely how.

"Oh it was nothing," he'd waved off, when he'd appeared at the Compound for another one of his impromptu check-ins, somehow sounding almost disappointed that that was the case. Nina had made sure to corner him with the intent of not just thanking him for his help but finding out what exactly he had done. And as she'd suspected from what her aunt had shared of the man and her own limited experience, he had all but volunteered what she'd wanted to know almost without her even having to put in a whole lot of real effort.

"You'd already done most of the work," he'd said. "You'd already been accepted, apparently, so it was just a matter of convincing admissions to keep you accepted pending final grades, etcetera, etcetera, even though the deadline had passed. Easy really. It's amazing what people will do in the hopes of a generous donation." Nina had blanched at that comment.

"You didn't buy my way in, did you?" she'd asked in a panic. Tony had just laughed.

"No, I didn't. Not exactly," he'd said with a crooked grin. "It wasn't anything they weren't going to get anyway." He'd patted her on the shoulder then at her stricken expression, his blunt, forthright manner surprisingly reassuring. "Don't worry about it, Miss Thomson-formerly-known-as-Ryker. Think of it as me cashing in a favour for all the cash I've thrown at them over the years."

It had made her feel a little better.

"Besides, Widow and your mom did all the real work. I didn't even have to lift a finger on the tricky stuff. Just had to pull my alumna strings and chat up a few folks in admin and admissions."

It was thanks to her illuminating conversation with Stark that Nina had finally cornered her Aunt into sharing exactly what they had done to ensure she could go away to school. It sounded deceptively simple, really, though Nina had a fairly good inkling from her own experience with what could be done with a computer and the right know-how that it had been anything but. In simplest terms, Natasha and Nadine had 'tricked' her academic history into believing it belonged to Nina Thomson instead of Nicola Ryker, ensuring that the switch wouldn't be traced back to Nina's original identity while they were at it. As for as official documents went, academic and otherwise, Nina Thomson's records were complete while Nicola Ryker was now effectively a blank page. They had similarly 'tricked' the MIT Admissions department into thinking the same thing, that the application for Nicola Ryker belonged to Nina Thomson instead. It meant that neither they nor Nina had to go through the admissions process again, and that all that had really needed to be done on Tony's end was to convince them to keep her application and conditional acceptance open until her tests had been taken.

Well? They had been taken, and Nina only had to wait for the results.

That part was less exciting. Unlike before, just after Sokovia and before training had kicked into gear, Nina was effectively on her own. The Twins were occupied in their capacity as New Avengers and, naturally, Natasha and her mom were similarly occupied. On top of that, her mom was still devoted to her own set of missions. She couldn't fault the Twins for it, of course, since it was effectively their job now, just as she couldn't fault her mom or her aunt. But it still left her at loose ends a great deal of the time.

Which left more time for stewing and wondering at what was going on around her. Sure, there was still plenty to be done, most of it to do with preparing herself for starting at university come the new year. But that did take up only so much of her time.

Which left more time for wondering what everyone else was getting up to.

Especially her mom.

Especially given the missions she periodically left on.

Including one a couple weeks previous where she'd actually left wearing the pale grey catsuit and jacket Nina had privately dubbed her Ghost Gear.

Usually when Nadine was leaving on another one of her missions, she went virtually incognito, wearing simple business wear or things reminiscent of her ballet mistress days: things that neither stood out nor blended in too much. But that mission? It had been different. Different enough that she had warned Nina of it the day before. And given that the Ghost Gear was out instead of her inconspicuous yet authoritative 'agent' outfits she usually wore for missions the last little while? It really had been a serious mission. Even more serious than her last few intelligence missions.

A Ghost mission.

In a way, really, it was just like before, when her mom would leave on what Nina knew now had been jobs as The Ghost. Only now? Nadine usually told Nina what she was actually leaving to do. Sort of.

"I have a lead to follow up," she'd said this last time, laying a kiss against Nina's hair when she had pressed about why she was going this time. "I should only be a couple days." Nina hadn't been able to help the ache in her chest at the vague explanation nor the narrow-eyed, likely suspicious look she'd given her mom before she could stop it. Nadine had sighed then, knowing exactly why Nina had looked at her like that.

But then she'd surprised Nina. She'd told the truth and the ache had begun to fade, leaving a faint, comforting feeling reminiscent of her powers' sensation in its place.

"It's something that's come out of the things my training mistress told me. But…I didn't want to say anything,  _solnyshko_. I don't want to get your hopes up, not when it's such a long shot. I can't be sure we— But—" She'd hesitated then before looking Nina in the eye, her familiar grey eyes alight with determination and something Nina had tentatively identified as hope. "But it isn't a mission to ensure my secrets are safe, this time. Nina…I may have a lead on finding your father." Nina's heart had stuttered at the confession. It still stuttered when she thought about it now.

Not that it had entirely assuaged her sense that her mom was still keeping things from her. But then, she knew that already. It was a constant feeling that she was begrudgingly learning to deal with.

But there had been more to it this time, more than just Nadine keeping her father's identity from Nina.

Nadine had said 'can't be sure  _we_ ' before cutting herself off. What was that supposed to mean? And Nina was pretty sure it had been 'we' and not the beginning of something else like 'when' or 'why.' It was one of a couple things Nina had been stewing over.

Really? It could only mean one thing.

It meant that there were others who knew Nadine was trying to find Nina's father. And who possibly even knew who he was. Nina's gut twisted at the thought. Could Nadine have told the others about her search? Had Nadine confided in others? Had she confided in them things that she hadn't told Nina? Natasha had to be one of them. She had to be. Nadine and Natasha were sisters in every sense of the word save by blood. Why wouldn't Nadine have confided in the only person she truly trusted? And given that Natasha was one of the best spies in the world other than her mom? Nina couldn't even say she didn't understand why. Part of her didn't even begrudge it, jealous as she still was.

Still, try as she might, she couldn't help but feel a little resentful about that.

But who else? Hawkeye? Maybe. Nina had noticed during their visits to the Barton farm since Sokovia her mom seemed far more at ease with the archer and his wife than just about anyone else save Natasha. It hadn't been hard to miss. So it was possible Nadine had confided something to him as well. Not to mention Clint was a former agent, so undoubtedly he had insight to offer as well.

Another part of her wondered if perhaps Captain Rogers knew too. They had been growing closer, Nadine and the Captain spending an afternoon a week together after the combat sessions her mother still led. Even lunches afterward, sometimes.

But at the same time…

Another little part of her was beginning to wonder if finding her father and tracking down these people who apparently knew about her and Nadine weren't her mom's only projects.

The more she watched and listened to the happenings within the Compound, the more convinced she was that her mom had another side project beyond finding her father. Something for Captain Rogers that Natasha seemed to be helping with. And she only knew that from stumbling across her aunt speaking quietly to Sam about Steve apparently enlisting Nadine to help find some other mysterious 'him,' with Natasha staunchly defending her mom.

"She's my sister, and I trust her with my life, Sam," her aunt had said as she'd laid a gentle hand on his arm, "and even if Steve didn't trust her, he trusts me. He was Steve's best friend since childhood; of course he'd want the best to help him. If it were your friend, can you deny that you wouldn't do the same?" Natasha had sighed then before fixing Sam with an earnest, level look, her voice low and gentle for all that it brooked no argument. It had been very difficult for Nina to keep herself from being noticed, she was so curious.

"Nadine is the best, Sam," Nat had assured him, "and she'll find him. She promised she would, and that's what she's going to do." Sam's thoughtful, wary expression hadn't entirely dissipated, but he had sighed himself and spared Natasha a small smile as he'd laid his own hand on her arm, his thumb chafing absently as he'd replied, "well, if you're sure, and Cap's sure, I can work with that."

Nina hadn't heard anything more, not willing to risk being caught eavesdropping, but what she had heard had been enough. A petulant, even childish little part of her couldn't help but wonder why they couldn't just leave her mom alone for time so she could focus on finding her father—James…something. That was all Nina knew for sure about him really. Oh, there were assumptions she could make; like that since her mom had trained in Russia in a KGB-run program and that was where she met him, it was logical to conclude that he was likely Russian, even KGB himself.

That sort of thing.

But then she would remember that Natasha had said whoever her mom was apparently helping Steve to find had been Steve's best friend growing up. And she'd immediately feel guilty for having such an uncharitable thought. She'd been told about Steve's past—heck, she'd learned about some of it in school, especially after what happened in DC a little while back—so she could imagine he needed the closure in finding out what happened to his friends from back before he'd been frozen. And she had been made more than aware that her mom was good at finding people.

It only made sense that Nadine might be able to track Steve's friend down even so many years later. She hoped, for his sake, that his friend might even still be alive; it wasn't uncommon for people to live into their nineties, after all. She'd grown very fond of the Captain, and Nina imagined he would probably appreciate the closure and the chance to say goodbye.

So she couldn't exactly begrudge him taking some of her mom's time either, as much as a selfish little part of her wanted to. Especially if he was one of the people her Mom's vague 'we' had been referring to. Heck, Nadine finding his friend could possibly even be a gesture of thanks for Steve helping to find Nina's dad.

But the conversation had still left Nina somewhat unsettled despite her reasoning. Enough so that she hadn't told anyone what she'd overheard. She had very nearly brought it up with her mother, but the words had caught in her throat. She just wasn't sure what to say. When she tried to figure out something to say anyway, it just sounded petty and silly. So she kept it to herself for now.

Neither had she told the Twins. She wasn't about to distract them now, not with their first real mission on their plates. They both wanted so desperately to prove themselves that she couldn't do that to them.

But looking back there were occasions, unexplained moments and exchanges, that had left Nina sure that she'd come to the right conclusion about her mom splitting her time between trying to find her father and searching for Steve's friend. Seeing Steve's shoulders slump minutely or Nat's quickly hidden moue of disappointment at her mom's subtle shake of the head in answer to their own silent questions and vice versa or softly spoken reports delivered to one or both of the Avengers had been more than proof enough in retrospect.

It brought to mind other times since Sokovia when she'd seen her mom putting her head together with the Captain and her Aunt, sometimes resulting in a barely restrained anxious anticipation or those perplexing moments of poorly hidden disappointment at whatever her mom had said to them. It left the ache in Nina's chest to grow again.

How was that fair, that her mom was so open with them but not with her? Why did they get to know what sort of progress Nadine was making on her mission for them and Nina was left with only the most vague of explanations when it came to the search for her father? And why hadn't her mom at least told her about this other mission? She had hoped her mom was done with keeping secrets from her.

Only for another side of Nina to rationalize that, not only was it unfair of her to wish her mom wasn't helping Steve, but if she really was helping him with his friend out of thanks for Steve and Nat were helping her? It would necessitate them being told…something. At the very least, more than Nina had been told. She had to forcibly remind herself when her thoughts threatened to go there that Natasha and Steve were experienced, skilled agents. More than that, Natasha at the very least was her mother's confidant, so her knowing only made sense. Not to mention she had no proof that Steve knew about Nina's father. If her mom had told them, she would've had a very good reason to do so. Right?

It was all rather frustrating, and Nina felt like her brain was getting tied up in knots just contemplating it all.

Neither did those realizations and rationalizations help diminish the small shard of resentment that burrowed deep in Nina's chest at the admittedly irrational thought that her mom trusted them more than she trusted her. She was eighteen now, for heaven's sake! She was legally an adult. Why couldn't she know?

It was a bitter thought and she knew it, just as she knew it wasn't all as simple as it sometimes felt it should be. She knew better. She knew her mom well enough to know that she wouldn't keep such an important secret lightly. Not after everything that had happened with Strucker and Ultron. But that didn't stop the feeling from stubbornly lingering.

So she forced it aside as best she could. What else could she do? She didn't  _want_  to resent her mother. She just wanted…honestly, part of her wasn't even entirely sure what she wanted on that front anymore. She couldn't say it was trust, because she knew on a deep, instinctual level that her mom did trust her.

And if she really thought about it and forced herself to be honest, she couldn't even say it was a desire to know everything. As the days had turned to weeks and then to months after those horrible days in Sokovia, Nina had come to the realization that knowing was not always a good thing, and some of the urge had left her and not wholly returned. Sure, she still wanted to know the rest of what her mom had kept from her, but it wasn't the burning desire that she'd felt in those early days. Her need to know had been tempered by recognizing the weight of what she already knew. And it did weigh on her. Just as the realization of her new powers had before she'd sat down and talked to her mom about being Enhanced. She knew she would know the rest someday, and surprisingly, that was proving to be enough for now.

She pulled herself up on the couch, pulling her legs up beneath her, surveying the room with sightless eyes. She'd done enough stewing and wallowing for one day, she decided irritably. It was getting her nowhere just as it hadn't the other hundred times she'd let her thoughts roam aimlessly.

She really couldn't wait until school started…then she'd have something substantial to keep her mind occupied…excitement bubbles once more in her chest.

Resolved, she propelled herself to her feet, ducking into her room to snatch up her workout gear. She would head down to the training centre and work herself to exhaustion, sweating out her frustrations. Maybe she'd even track down the Twins while she was at it. She missed spending time with them, and there was still a good chunk of day left. Maybe they could even sneak off to work on her control over her powers again. It had been a while…

Yes, she decided firmly. Finding them and wearing herself out while she was at it sounded like just the ticket.

And with a self-satisfied hum, she exited her and her mother's rooms and headed out into the Compound.


	84. Chapter 9

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Late Fall 2015**

Well, that was a peculiar look. And Nadine wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what it meant. It certainly didn’t stop her stomach from flipping nervously.

Nina had obviously been taking lessons from Natasha…

But almost as soon as it had appeared on her daughter’s face, it was gone and Nina was looking back to her new textbook; she and Nat had taken a trip to Cambridge the week before and Nina had returned lugging a stack of textbooks for her courses. Her final scores weren’t in yet, but Tony had been heavily hinting to Nat that not only had he’d taken a peek but that it looked good so far.

But that look… Nadine eyed her daughter warily as she crossed the sitting area of their suite to deposit her workout gear in her room, not entirely sure what to make of it. For all that Nina’s focus was almost wholly on her upcoming semester, she had still been sitting in on the odd bit of training now that her testing was over and done with. Not to mention she had been spending a great deal of quality time with her aunt.

Natasha had definitely taken to being an aunt to a teenage girl like a match to paper. More than once over the last little while, even before Nina had taken her tests, there had been times when Nadine would be looking for one of them and they’d be nowhere to be found. Only to find out later they’d popped off together for coffees or some shopping. “Have to make sure my niece is properly outfitted for school,” Nat had explained with a sly look after one such occasion, “after all, what are aunts for except to talk boys, go shopping and swap gossip.”

Yes…gossip. Nadine could only imagine what sorts of things her sister had filled her daughter’s head with. And vice versa, if she were being honest. Nina was no slouch at noticing things around her that other people often missed; a by-product of the mental and memory ‘games’ Nadine had raised her with.

For the most part, Nadine really could care less. She was just far too happy that her sister and Nina had bonded the way they had. It was more than she could’ve ever dreamed, to be honest. Never would she have imagined even a few months before that she would be wondering what sorts of things Natasha and Nina had been talking about. The very idea that they even knew about each other would’ve seemed ridiculous and unattainable alone, much less that they could develop a relationship; a nice dream, but not something she should let herself hope could one day happen.

Yet now? Here she was, wondering what sort of innocuous gossip her sister and her daughter had been trading.

And what sort of less-than-innocuous gossip, if her daughter’s odd look had been any indication.

Nadine had an unsettling feeling like a great deal of Nat and Nina’s gossip recently had been centered on Nadine…and a certain Captain she was trying very hard not to think of in decidedly unprofessional ways.

The more time she and Steve were spending together was not making it any easier, that was for sure. To the point where the sparring session she had just wrapped up with him had left her feeling warm in ways that had very little to do with the physical exertions of physical training.

Rather, it had a great deal more to do with the person she was training with, be it the friendly smiles he gave her, the genuine interest he had or the wonderfully solid feel of those arms. More likely, it was a devastating mix of that and more.

After all, not many men she’d ever known would even think to find out her favourite song, much less sneak it into his workout playlist just to make her laugh. Yet, just that had happened barely even an hour before. One minute she was on the verge of slipping behind Steve’s guard to take him down—again, she recalled, still pleased about that—and the next she’s blinking in bewilderment at the sound of Woody Herman’s Woodchopper’s Ball. And Steve promptly hooked an ankle around hers and laid her out flat on the floor, looking down at her with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

“What a sneaky, underhanded move,” she had accused without real bite, unable to entirely hide the way her lip had been twitching on the verge of a smile, “not at all what I’d have expected from the noble Captain America.” He’d chuckled.

“Then I suppose you’re rubbing off on me,” he’d teased back. And then they were both laughing. Her stomach had been doing veritable somersaults as he’d straightened, holding out a hand to help her up and inadvertently pulling her close enough as he did that their chests nearly touched.

Truthfully, she hadn’t been able to breathe, her breath had hitched so completely. Especially when, as she found her feet and he was no longer partially supporting her weight, he unintentionally leaned closer.

She had nearly kissed him right then and there, the urge nearly overwhelming.

Instead, she had pulled off a neat little move that twisted her under his arm and behind, letting her kick off their sparring again.

It had taken far more willpower to do than she liked to admit.

Especially given the curious, almost inadvertent smile that had been tugging at his lips as the moment had stretched between them.

There were times when it honestly felt like the man was made to drive her to distraction. He made her smile, laugh and feel, well, like…herself instead of a highly trained assassin or a mom. Like she was more than just either of those.

And Nadine was well aware that her sister had gleefully picked up on it, undoubtedly setting her daughter on it the scent for good measure.

Which once again left Nadine wondering what on earth the odd look had been about. Much as she hoped otherwise, she rather suspected it had to do with the Captain over anything else. She sighed with exasperation, tossing her workout gear into the laundry with a touch more force than was strictly necessary. Why couldn’t her sister just keep her nose out of it? It wasn’t like anything could happen, she reminded herself yet again. Natasha should know that. So it was a futile exercise.

Hmm…perhaps she should consider confronting Natasha about whatever it was that Nadine kept noticing between her and Sam…it might just get the point across…

Well, whatever it was that had left her daughter looking slyly at her from behind her book, she was bound to find out about it sooner or later. Nina wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself forever. So all Nadine had to do was wait.

Sure enough, no sooner had she stepped back out into their little sitting area after a quick shower, than she was confronted with the source thought of the odd look.

It wasn’t exactly what she’d been expecting.

“You’re staying, right?”

“What?”

“You. Staying, here,” Nina repeated with a bright, easy grin. Not that the seriousness of her question was lost. She closed her textbook around her finger, careful to keep her place even as she turned her full focus to Nadine. “It’ll make breaks much easier, for one, if I can just come back here. Then I can see you, Aunt Nat, Pietro, Wanda, everyone all at once.” She grinned guilelessly up at her mother. Nadine was honestly slightly stunned, her mind having gone peculiarly blank. She was rather stuck in that moment between taking Nina’s words at face value or digging to see what she was really after. Nina turned back to her textbook, not quite hiding her pleased grin.

Then it sunk in what she was asking.

And judging by not just what she’d said but also what Nadine could read on her daughter’s face? Her body language?

Nina thought she should stay.

Honestly? Nadine hadn’t given it a great deal of thought, yet. And didn’t that just set another jolt of surprise through the blonde assassin. She  _ always _ had plans to move on, be they vague ideas for a distant someday or concrete and a few steps short of implementation in case of emergency. Hell, in Vienna she’d already given notice to their landlord before Nina had been taken that they would be moving at the end of the summer. 

Sure, she supposed she had a couple vague plans to flesh out at some point stored away in the back of her mind just in case and a couple emergency ones technically still on standby. But as Nina’s question had suddenly brought the thought to the front of her mind, she was confronted with the hard fact that she truthfully hadn’t started planning to move on. Not like she had been in Vienna or a couple months previous before Nina had made her interest in Avenger training known and Nadine had been convinced to stay on as a training consultant.

And she honestly didn’t know how she felt about that. Part of her certainly felt uneasy about it, suddenly fearing that she was growing complacent.

But the other part? A soft, secret little corner of her mind just hummed happily at the idea that she had found somewhere she wanted to stay.

And that she had no immediate plans to leave said place.

But her stomach also twisted at the idea. Sure she probably could stay. She knew her sister wouldn’t mind, and she was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t object either, nor would many of the others around the Compound. But that didn’t satisfy the question of whether or not she  _ should _ . Nina wouldn’t be here. And Nadine had work to do. Work that didn’t require her to be tied down to one place as Nina’s presence did. And with Nina off at school?

Then there was the consideration that she honestly didn’t know how much longer it would be  _ safe _ for her to stay. Secure as the facility might be and as thoroughly vetted and loyal to the Avengers as the personnel flitting around the Compound undoubtedly were, it was only a matter of time before her identity was blown and agencies from all over the world came for her. She’d done what she could to counter the damage Ultron had done, but even with the resources at her disposal and her sister’s invaluable help, there was only so many stop-get measures she could implement. 

Eventually, someone would track her down. Eventually someone would make the connection between the Nadine Ryker—she hadn’t been able to stop that name spreading thanks to some…Tony…referring to her as ‘Ryker’ around the Compound despite her attempt to implement a different alias—who consulted with the Avengers and the Nadine Ryker who had been revealed to every major international intelligence agency as the alias of the infamous assassin The Ghost.

And that wasn’t even considering the less savoury factions out there who would likely love to get their hands on her. Some of them even likely the same people they were hoping to keep Barnes away from for one reason or another.

Those out for revenge, or to get their hands on the ultimate asset.

If her presence here came out, the world would drop on her. Her stomach twisted.

And the Avengers would be caught in the middle for harbouring her. Her gut clenched, hard and painful at the idea that her presence could hurt her sister, the Twins…Steve. She had no idea the strings Stark had pulled to get Visas for the Twins, but she had the feeling they were precarious, at best. The very thought that her presence was a threat to them and their desire to do good? To their very freedom? And her sister? She got the impression that after her stunt with uploading S.H.I.E.L.D.’s entire database to the internet and her stance on the Hill afterward, there were no few people who would love to see her brought low. And Vision? Rhodes? Rhodes would lose his position in the Military, which she knew would crush the man, proud as he was of his service.  

Nadine didn’t care how much influence Stark or any of them had. There would be no shielding any of them or her if her presence here got out. No protecting her. No expunging her crimes or forcing the world to reconsider just because she had thrown in with Earth’s mightiest heroes.

And no protecting them from the inevitable fallout of harboring a criminal.

She was dangerous to them all.

Certainty settled in her gut.

She needed to start making plans.

“Mom?” she looked up to Nina, who was suddenly looking at her with a rather distinct, knowing wariness written all over her face. “Mom, you’re not actually thinking of leaving, are you?” Nadine arranged her features into a reassuring smile, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair as she circled around the couch where she sat to their little kitchenette.

“It’s something I have to consider,  _ solnyshko _ ,” she admitted firmly as she gathered together the makings for a protein shake; not the most appetizing of edibles to her mind, but a definite boon when one had the lifestyle and the metabolism people like her did. 

Especially when she had been denied a pleasant lunch with her friend thanks to Steve being pulled away by Hill for some manner of Avengers’ business, she was reminded with a pang of disappointment. 

Nadine could practically feel Nina’s bewildered frown. She spared her daughter a solemn look. “I can’t stay here forever, Nina,” she pointed out as she began check over the small collection of fruit she’d brought up from the mess earlier that morning, “I am The Ghost, after all. It’s not safe nor is it fair if I risk everyone’s safety by staying.” Nina dropped her book on the coffee table with a heavy thud, twisting to watch Nadine with a definite look of disapproval over the back of the couch.

“The safety of the  _ Avengers _ ?” she asked skeptically. “Mom, they are all in danger every day purely by existing. I don’t think any one of them would consider you staying here to be too much of a ‘risk.’” Nadine gave Nina a reprimanding glance at the air quotes she threw around ‘risk.’ But she did have a point. One the quiet little part of her eager to stick around was almost too eager to latch onto. Satisfaction flickered across Nina’s face and Nadine fought back a frown. Since when had Nina been able to read her so easily? She shook the thought away.

“Yes, Nina,” she countered, ensuring she was keeping her voice calm and reasonable. “Because there’s more than one kind of risk. Yes, the Avengers have targets on their back purely by being what they are and having done the things they have and my presence adds one more target of that kind on this place. But what I’ve done and the kind of attention my presence could bring is another kind of trouble altogether. I’m wanted by over a dozen international—sanctioned and legal—agencies, Nina,” she pointed out firmly, cutting off Nina’s objection before she could do more than open her mouth. “That’s not a risk I can ask any one of them to take on. I haven’t been pardoned by anyone and unlike Natasha my actions weren’t done while under the protection of an official agency. I am, in bluntest term, a black market assassin,  _ solnyshko _ . A criminal. Being caught harbouring me would bring down a kind of scrutiny the Avengers shouldn’t have to face. That they can’t afford to face.” Nina looked caught between shocked and defiant, her eyes wide and mouth set in a thin line. Still, Nadine was satisfied she had made her point, and turned back to her shake. After a few moments of silence—broken only by obnoxious sound the blender she was using—Nadine turned to lean back against the counter of their kitchenette. Only to find Nina still hanging over the back of the couch, studying her with a deeply thoughtful expression.

“Have you asked them?” Nadine frowned, her cup pausing as she lifted it to her mouth. She sighed.

“Nina—”

“You said it’s a risk you couldn’t ask them to take. Ask them anyway.” Nina lifted her chin in challenge, her eyes glinting. “They like having you around, Mom. I know they do. You’re good at what you do here,” she said, her tone oddly reminiscent of Nadine’s when she wasn’t interested in an argument. Nadine was severely tempted to narrow her eyes at the realization. Nina sighed, settling back on her heels.

“But you won’t,” she said almost dismissively. “Because you know what the answer would be.”

“Nina—”

“You know they would be okay with you staying,” her daughter pressed on, sounding inordinately pleased with herself…and inordinately like Natasha… “In fact,” Nina said, bouncing to her feet and circling the couch to wrap her arms around her mom, resting her chin on her shoulder even as she effectively pinned Nadine’s arms to her sides. Instinctively, Nadine’s hand rose to absently pat at Nina’s arm where it encircled her own. Nina smirked knowingly up at Nadine, “I rather think a few of them would insist you stay.” Nadine bit back a heavy sigh. Since when was her daughter so…grown up…and right.

Oh God…her baby girl really was all grown up, wasn’t she…

Her expression softening, Nina squeezed Nadine tightly. Twisting in her daughter’s embrace, Nadine freed her arms, depositing her cup back on the counter so she could hug her daughter back, laying a light kiss against her temple. Nina didn’t hesitate to lean into her mom’s embrace.

“I really think you should stay, Mom,” she said quietly. “I think it would make you happy.” Nadine nearly started at how certain Nina suddenly sounded, taken aback by the knowing glint that had appeared in her daughter’s eyes as she leaned back.

“Besides,” the glint turned mischievous in a blink, and Nadine was immediately eying Nina warily; she looked disconcertingly like Natasha when she wore that expression…and if it meant the same thing… “I really do think you would be missed if you left.”

Her response was out before Nadine could even think to keep it behind her teeth. “By who?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Natasha, the Twins…Captain Rogers.” Well that wasn’t subtle at all. Nadine swallowed back an aggravated groan with surprising difficulty.

“You’ve been spending far too much time with your Aunt,” Nadine muttered to herself. Obviously not quietly enough, though. Nina’s grin widened, her eyes practically shining with amusement.

“Oh come on, Mom,” she teased, pulling away to circle back around to her spot the couch, “You can’t say there isn’t something there.” Nadine crossed her arms, raising a skeptical brow at her cheekily grinning daughter as Nina flopped back onto the couch.

“I can say it quite easily,” she countered dryly. Nina rolled her eyes, very obviously not convinced.

“Fine, you can say it,” Nina dismissed with an overly sweet grin. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Now it was Nadine tempted to roll her eyes. Natasha was most definitely a bad influence. Grabbing up her phone, Nina twisted again to lean over the back of the couch to fix Nadine with a knowing look that was surprisingly unsettling.

“Mom,” Nina said solemnly, once again nearly causing Nadine to roll her eyes in exasperation, “I’ve known you my whole life. I have never, not once, seen you actually interested in a man. Captain Rogers? You’re interested. I can tell.” Her blue-grey eyes were sparkling mischievously, giving away her attempt at seriousness. “Not that I can blame you. He does have quite the appeal. Though, I suppose the age difference might be a little weird…he is almost a hundred years old, after all…” Nadine sighed at Nina’s teasing, forcing back an odd little flutter beneath her breastbone as she turned to grab up her shake again.

“Nice try, Nina,” she dismissed firmly before taking a drink. Nina merely grinned innocently, though again, that impish spark gave her away.

“Oh come on, Mama,” Nina exclaimed with playfully affected aggravation, “He’s perfect for you. He completes you!” 

Nadine couldn’t help but raise an incredulous eyebrow at the declaration. “Oh?”

“He makes you smile,” Nina said, stifling a giggle. Nadine was nearly tempted to roll her eyes. 

“Lots of things make me smile,  _ solnyshko _ ,” Nadine countered dryly. Nina’s eyes glinted impishly. 

“Not like he does,” she countered right back without missing a beat. Nadine’s struggled not to clench her jaw in exasperation at her daughter’s impudent remark.

Especially as she wasn’t entirely wrong…

Nina just smiled smugly, finally looking down to her phone.

It was then that Nina straightened with an impatient little sound. Nadine cocked her head in curiosity as Nina was suddenly packing up her books and notes, all but stuffing them hastily into her book bag before ducking into her room to drop them on her bed. Leaving her half-empty cup on the counter, Nadine followed to lean against the door to Nina’s room, frowning as Nina darted around, changing from her loungewear into something a little more appropriate for public…or a date maybe? She nearly chuckled at the sight.

“Running late?” she quipped dryly. Nina looked up, wrinkling her nose at her mom before holding up a soft grey tee and navy thick-knit cardigan for an opinion. Smiling fondly, Nadine nodded.

“No. Not yet. Besides,” Nina grinned as she tugged the cardi on, “It’s hard to be late when your boyfriend can run faster than a car can drive.” Nadine raised a brow.

“Boyfriend?” At once Nina was flushing bright red, pointedly turning to her dresser to peruse through the collection of jewellery her Aunt was ultimately responsible for her acquiring.

“Yeah,” she mumbled self-consciously, “boyfriend.” Nadine bit back a laugh at how nervous she sounded. She supposed she shouldn’t be so amused that Nina was nervous about Nadine’s thoughts on her and Pietro dating, but Nadine couldn’t help it. She was rather enjoying the ‘protective mom’ routine. Especially where Pietro was concerned. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve—she still had reservations, but she wouldn’t quite go so far as to say she disapproved—it was more she didn’t know how she felt about it yet. Either way, it was just too entertaining watching him attempt to maintain his bravado when faced with her impassive scrutiny.

“I take it that everything’s okay between the two of you again?” Nina spared her mom a glance as she considered the merits of one necklace over another; the one in her left hand a dangly chainmail-like number and the other a more geometric and colourful piece. “Left,” Nadine voted.

“Yeah,” Nina answered as she discarded the colourful one in favour of the one Nadine liked, a trace of hurt nevertheless still evident despite the upbeat tone she used. Nadine couldn’t say she was surprised by that, a resurgence of the irritation she’d fostered for the Sokovian boy reemerging. It did still bother her a bit the way he and Nina had been in a rocky place for a couple weeks there just because he didn’t like the decision Nina had made about her own future. There had been quite a few times when she’d seriously considered taking him aside and knocking some sense into him…both with and without words. And he’d known it too; not only had he been all but avoiding Nina during that time, but he’d definitely been trying his utmost to steer clear of Nadine too. Nina spared Nadine what she supposed was intended to be a reassuring look. It was, for the most part.

“We talked it out and everything, but it’s still a little, err…tense, I suppose is the best word. Things are getting better, and I think it’ll help once I’m actually away at school and he sees that things aren’t going to change as much as he thinks they will. But he’s…” she trailed off, considering how best to explain as she leaned back against the dresser, avoiding Nadine’s eye as she fiddled with the dangling chains of her necklace. “Well, he thinks things are going to change. I mean,” she made a frustrated sound as she tugged the elastic from her hair, “I  _ know _ they’re going to change a bit—I’m going to be in another city and he’ll still be here, after all—but I don’t think it’s actually going to  _ change _ . You know?” She wrinkled her nose at how her explanation came out. Nadine kept her amused grin to herself. Oddly enough, she did get where Nina was coming from for all that Nina didn’t quite seem able to say it the way she wanted. It was a problem every teen in a relationship faced when they or their other was about to move somewhere ‘away’; she’d seen it a dozen times over with girls and boys that had gone through her studio.

Nina huffed, picking up her brush. “I think he’s mostly just antsy that I’m not going to be around the Compound anymore. That I’m going to…you know, move on, or something. Leave him behind.” Nadine considered her daughter’s theory as Nina finished getting ready, brushing out her hair from the messy bun she often threw it into. It was certainly a reasonable assumption to make. Common relationship vs. moving away problems aside, there was little question Pietro was bound to have separation issues. He was all but a textbook case of someone bound to struggle with fears of abandonment for all that he did a valiant job of hiding it. In retrospect, it made his behaviour when he had been avoiding Nina make a lot more sense. Nina sighed, fluffing her hair with her fingers as she set down her brush. Nadine smiled as Nina looked to her, waiting patiently for her to continue. It was nice, this. Talking like they used to.

Although, in this instance, it was more listening on Nadine’s part. Not that she minded. 

“It’s just…” Nina bounced down on the end of her bed, her hands absently waving before her in a gesture of frustration before landing heavily on her knees. “He’s still fighting the fear that I’m going to forget about him,” she admitted after a moment, looking up to Nadine. “He says he doesn’t actually feel that way anymore, that he’s moved past it, but I can’t help but think he can’t help it.” Nadine smiled knowingly, edging into the room to settle next to Nina. Nina huffed and leaned against her, fiddling absently with her necklace.

Nadine contemplated what to say carefully for a moment. “It’s a deeply-ingrained fear, losing someone he cares about again,” she finally ventured. “It’s not a feeling that is overcome easily. Consciously he knows, and consciously he probably has convinced himself he’s moved past it. But it’s likely a fear he’ll carry his whole life,” Nadine said softly. Nina sighed, looking relieved that Nadine understood even though her answer wasn’t exactly the most reassuring. Nadine wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s his experience,  _ solnyshko _ . It’s a by-product of losing his parents so young and being shunted around like baggage afterward, never having a real home or anyone to depend on, except for Wanda. He does know better, but he will always have to fight that gut-feeling.” A wan grin tugged at the corner of Nina’s mouth.

“That’s what Wanda said,” she murmured, turning to rest her cheek on Nadine’s shoulder. Nadine smiled.

“Wanda’s a smart girl. And she’s perceptive even without her ability to see inside other people’s heads. Not to mention she knows Pietro better than anyone else,” Nadine added wryly, earning a giggle from her daughter, “even himself, at times.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” Nina agreed, wrapping her arms around Nadine’s waist for a quick hug before pulling away. Nadine tucked a strand of hair back behind Nina’s ear.

“You’re not too bad at it yourself,  _ solnyshko _ ,” she added with a grin. Nina’s cheeks pinked at the praise before her eyes glinted impishly.

“Does that mean I’m onto something with Captain Rogers?”

Nadine groaned, standing. “Your aunt and I really need to have a talk,” she said dryly by way of an answer. Nina giggled again, her steel-blue eyes sparkling as she glanced down to her phone again.

As though on cue, a knock sounded out at the main door to their suite.

Sparing her mom a final mischievous glance, Nina all but skipped out to answer it. Sighing, Nadine followed, once more leaning against the doorframe, this time looking out of her daughter’s room instead of looking in.

And schooling her features into a rather unimpressed expression at the sight of her daughter’s rather affectionate greeting for her apparent boyfriend…and Pietro’s equally eager response. Eventually they would notice she was still there.

She finally decided to hasten that realization along, though, when his hand began to move lower beneath the back of her cardigan.

“Watch it, Quicksilver,” Nadine threw out, unimpressed even as she was secretly amused, “I am still in the room…” Much to Nadine’s bemusement, the young couple jumped apart, her daughter’s cheeks going beet red and Pietro swallowing nervously even as his chin rose. Not that she let on, of course. She merely raised a cool eyebrow instead. She was nearly tempted to snicker when Pietro visible paled at the subtle warning.

It was never going to get old…


	85. Chapter 10

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Early Winter 2015**

Steve was starting to regularly find himself in a tight spot, these days. A tight, conflicted spot.

He honestly didn’t know what he’d been thinking. But the opportunity had arisen and he’d taken it. During their last sparring session, he’d reached out and—somehow—had managed to grasp her hand and before he’d even realized what he was doing, had managed to spin her into his arms.

And Nadine, ever on her toes as she was, had taken it up and led him through a few steps of a simple dance even as her eyes widened fractionally before they’d narrowed.

“This isn’t another trick, is it?” she’d asked skeptically, lip nevertheless quirking with amusement as she referred to him adding her favourite song to his workout playlist a few weeks previous. He’d just shrugged, grinning down at her even as his hand had found her waist.

As nonsensical as it seemed to even think it, the moment had been…almost magical. Surreal. Surprise had flickered across her face as she’d looked up at him and nerves had prickled through him, fear that he had somehow overstepped nearly overwhelming the sudden pleased feeling that had bloomed in his chest. And then she’d stepped closer, smiling up at him as she adjusted their stance into something approximating a classic dancing pose. Her normally guarded, cool grey eyes had warmed, echoing the laugh that had escaped at his rather stilted steps in response to her much more experienced ones.

Of course, with a wicked grin she’d then segued into a twisting, neat little turn beneath his arm that had ultimately seen him dropped to the mats in a devastatingly sly attack. In a blink she’d been crouched over him, a knee pinning his elbow and her arm braced across his chest. And as she’d been leaning over him…he wasn’t too proud to admit to himself that, in that moment, he’d seriously considered pulling her down and kissing her until they both couldn’t breathe.

But he’d let the moment pass, forcing himself to resume their sparring instead of giving into the temptation to act on the feelings that had been growing for…well, he wasn’t even sure how long, now. Feelings that he knew better than to act on, regardless. No matter how much he might want to. Feelings that his carefully cultivated self-control was having a harder and harder time keeping in check.

Feelings that he hadn’t quite realized had become quite _that_ strong.

It had certainly been an enlightening moment on top of enjoyable.

It meant that those few moments there when they’d been _dancing_ …he couldn’t stop thinking about them, now. And they were doing distracting things to his pulse and his stomach alike.

It had just felt so natural, and he had very nearly pulled her back into his arms several times since. He just couldn’t quite get the feel of her in his arms out of his head, or the way she had laughed and smiled up at him. Jeez, he just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. Though, that problem had started back before his little impromptu dance move. Though just when, he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

There had definitely been a draw back at the Avengers tower, already, when Natasha had all but dragged the blonde assassin to their celebration party. There’d been a couple moments that night when he’d had to remind himself to think around her. She’d looked fantastic in the green dress Nat had picked out—beautiful and graceful and still, somehow, coolly capable and impossibly strong. But more than just her admittedly great appearance, there had been something about the brief, distinct moment between them when he had visibly surprised her by being able to relate to the antsy feeling that came from spending time away from an incomplete mission on something frivolous. From understanding what she must’ve felt like, even a little, at being pulled away from her work to find Nina for the sake of a party. And when she’d genuinely smiled back, grateful for his understanding? Allowing that controlled mask of hers to slip for a moment of genuine connection? Much as part of him didn’t really want to admit as much, his stomach had flipped happily at having been the one to bring that expression to her face.

Perhaps that’s when it had started. Their time at the Barton Farm had certainly helped too. And that wasn’t even mentioning the time they’d spent in each other’s company since she had agreed to stick around the Compound as a training consultant.

Even after everything that had happened on the Quinjet, there was still a part of him that had been drawn to her. A draw that, in retrospect, he was beginning to think had been yet another factor to his overreaction toward her on the way to Seoul.

To find out everything he had about her had been a shock to say the least. Some of it had physically hurt to hear about. And not just the things he’d learned about Bucky. An ache still lingered in his gut to think about what she and Natasha must have endured in the place where they’d grown up.

And another part of him was more awed than he could say that they had become the women they both were today despite of it all, despite enduring a horrific upbringing that should have easily stripped them both of their humanity and their conscience just as it had moulded them both into lethal weapons.

It was something he’d discussed with Natasha at length since her and Nadine’s past had come out and after the sister spies had gone after their old training mistress. There was little doubt that both of them could still be cold, calculating, ruthless killers if the need arose, that both of them were still perfectly capable of turning off the ‘human’ side of themselves off. Yet somehow, despite being twisted and shaped into operatives who could hunt and lie and kill without a moment’s hesitation, they were both determined to rise above that side of themselves and the shadows in their pasts. To become more than what they were made to be. To be a force for good in the world instead of destruction as their training had prepared and intended them to be.

That their pasts didn’t define them.

It was more evident in Natasha’s case than Nadine’s, of course, as Natasha had left that life behind far earlier in many respects than Nadine had despite Nina’s indisputable impact on helping her mom reclaim herself from what that place had made her the way the Bartons and S.H.I.E.L.D. had for Nat. And though it was still painfully clear at times that Nadine still very much doubted she could be anything but the remorseless assassin she had been, there was still little doubt that she very much was not what she had been trained to become.

That she was far more. Far better.

Hell, Steve saw as much clear as day any time he saw her with Nina or Nat or the Twins. He saw it in her drive to find Bucky, to atone for something that she had little real choice in, that she felt responsible for despite being as much a victim as he had been. All the times she could’ve left during and immediately after the Ultron Fiasco, but didn’t, joining in on a fight that wasn’t hers and risking everything in the process without a second thought—well, maybe it had taken a second thought, but only because the first had been wholly devoted to her daughter.

There was no mistaking her innate drive to do the right thing, to do good in the way she had stepped up to help the Avengers when she would’ve been perfectly within her rights to leave. Then and now.

She was a much better person than she gave herself credit for.

Than she should probably have been.

It all inevitably drew Steve’s thoughts to _how_.

Even those with the strongest wills could break and succumb to the kind of brutal reprogramming Nadine and Nat had endured. And they had been children, trained to the mindset of remorseless, efficient killers since infancy. To know nothing else but cruelty and violence and death.

And they had both overcome it.

He had little doubt that, given the strength bond they shared now, even after nearly two decades apart, that their relationship had as large a role in it as the strength of each of their formidable wills. That their ability to lean on each other, to care for each other had allowed them both to retain enough of their humanity among the remorseless drive and expectations of their training to keep the spark of good in each of them alive despite nearly impossible odds. That it gave them a route back from the programming that had attempted to erase who they were.

Steve also very much believed that, in Nadine’s case, Nina truly had been Nadine’s redemption, not just in pushing her to run from the Red Room, but also in helping her to extricate herself from the mire of her training, to become more than just a merciless killer. That having Nina had helped her regain her compassion and her ability to connect. To love.

But there was one more factor he couldn’t help but consider.

Nadine’s Treatments.

Natasha’s too, if Nadine’s revelation on the way to Sokovia the first time were true. Both sisters seemed to believe as much, and Steve could understand why; even if not as noticeable as in Nadine’s case, there were times when Natasha did move a little too quickly, hit a little too hard and recover a little to fast for someone without a little something extra helping along their natural physiology.

And if those Treatments were derived from Erskine’s formula as Nadine’s research seemed to indicate? Erskine’s words all those years ago, from that night before Steve’s transformation, echoed through his thoughts:

 _Good becomes great. Bad becomes worse_.

Steve couldn’t help but wonder, thinking back on Nadine and Nat’s exposure to even a derivative of Erskine’s formula, if it had, in fact, amplified the very traits the Red Room had been striving to erase, the traits they’d kept alive in each other. If, in giving them the Treatment, their supervisors had in fact undermined their own efforts to create the ultimate, conscience-less operatives. That it had further strengthened the good in them, allowing them to keep that good from being subsumed or even snuffed out. It was a possibility he couldn’t help but consider.

Would Nadine’s innate good side have been able to overcome the brutal programming the Red Room had inflicted on her if not for the boost the Treatments may have given her?

Would Natasha?

Should they both be thanking the Treatments for helping them to keep a hold of their humanity?

Hard to say. There was no way of knowing now.

And frankly? Steve couldn’t even say he cared.

It wasn’t important. Not really. What was important was that they _had_ maintained who they were, even if it had been buried almost beyond their reach for a time. And that now they were both determined to rise above what their training had made them. Even if, like in Nadine’s case, they wondered if that goal would forever be out of reach.

He was rather more inclined to think they had both already achieved as much. A long time since, even. That their task now wasn’t so much reclaiming what the Red Room had worked to train out of them, but to maintain and nurture it now that they had found it again…whether they realized they had or not, as it were.  

And if that thought didn’t make him respect both of them all the more.

Especially Nadine.

Because even believing as she did that she was forever tainted by the evils in her past, that she would never be truly deserving of being called a ‘good person,’ she still very much strove to be. Even if half the time she didn’t seem to be aware that she was doing so.

She was a much stronger and better person than she gave herself credit for, that was for sure.

And dammit if he wasn’t starting to feel more than simple friendship for her. Enough ‘more’ that he found himself contemplating pursuing something more than just friendship with her almost daily. Not to mention he kept wondering what it would be like to have her in his arms for reasons other than training…and despite his efforts to banish the thought from his mind, it just kept returning more frequently as time passed

Hence the tight, conflicted spot he found himself in. For one very complicated reason.

Bucky.

He sighed heavily, reaching for his mug as he tried desperately to keep himself on task as he doubled down on the less glamorous side of being the de facto leader of the Avengers: paperwork. A rather empty mug. Leaning back in his chair, he swallowed back another sigh.

Bucky complicated everything.

More precisely, Bucky’s past with Nadine complicated everything.

Groaning, Steve pulled himself from his chair, abandoning his paperwork for the time being in pursuit of another bracing dose of caffeine.

It was a complication he just couldn’t seem to rationalize his way around. Yes, Nadine said that there had been nothing truly romantic between her and Bucky, that their time together had been nothing more than convenience—an _escape_ he remembered with an uncomfortable twist in his gut.

But then, how much of that was Nadine’s lingering belief that she didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, or even that she was incapable of finding it; nonsense, Steve thought, but not exactly feelings a person could deny if their life had been dark enough to foster such beliefs. As Nadine was realizing more and more that she was more than what her training made her, would she eventually realize that there might actually have been something there between her and Bucky? Something she had just convinced herself hadn’t been there to make her already hard life and the hard choices she’d had to make over the years just a little easier? Something she had denied to herself? He didn’t think that was the case, having gotten to know her as he had, but the small, niggling doubt wouldn’t entirely leave him be.

And what about Bucky?

As much as he hated to think about it considering his own growing feelings for the blonde assassin, Steve couldn’t deny that it was possible Bucky had felt something for Nadine. That he might have grown to care for her even despite the hold his programming held over him at the time. And if that were the case? Steve couldn’t do that to his friend.

So even growing to care for Nadine as he was, he couldn’t bear the thought that he risked betraying his friend. He couldn’t bring himself to pursue the woman his best friend might have grown to care about first. Not when Bucky had already been through so much.

Not until he knew for sure.

And on top of it all, that wasn’t even really factoring in that Nadine was the mother of Bucky’s child; yet another complication, a line he wasn’t sure he should cross, no matter how much part of him wanted to.

So as much as he wanted to see if there really was the potential for more to grow between him and Nadine, he had to resist. The need for discipline in this instance could not be overstated. For so many reasons…thus self-restraint was a virtue he needed to ascribe to.

For now…or at least, so a part of him hoped.

But it was all a moot point at the moment. Steve inhaled deeply as he made his way through the base. As hard and as diligently as Nadine was working toward tracking down Bucky, her progress had slowed again, her expertise in tracking those who didn’t want to be found going up against Bucky’s expertise in making sure he couldn’t be found. As much faith as he still held in Nadine’s ability to find him, his optimism that she would be able to do so quickly had nevertheless dimmed.

And as much as part of him wanted to, he had no intention of insisting she devote the entirety of her time and energy to it. He couldn’t. She didn’t deserve that. Just as Nina deserved her mother’s attention. That she needed it. Especially now, with Nina on the verge of starting her adult life.

Steve couldn’t even think about taking that away from either of them. Not after everything they’d both been through.

He absently shook his head. There really were too many other things he was supposed to be focused on just now. And not just on the administrative side of leading the Avengers. Crossbones was still a concern, especially since he, Nadine and Nat were having trouble zeroing in on him. For all that he seemed to be amping up his game, hitting heavily armed police stations all over the African continent, Rumlow was also proving far too good at disappearing underground for comfort. Meaning that, despite their best efforts, there was a good chance that they were simply going to have to wait until he reemerged and they got lucky enough to catch onto the chatter surrounding his movements in time to intercept him.

Not a pleasant thought.

Especially given that they had been close to getting him barely a couple weeks before. Steve fought not to clench his jaw, reminding himself that he needed to let go and move on. What was done was done and Pietro, so far, seemed to be heeding Steve’s warnings about the importance of following orders in the field. So that was something.

And speak of the devil…Steve hesitated as he reached the kitchenette of Common Area, his attention abruptly falling on the couple tucked away on the red couches in the far corner as he turned from the coffeemaker, newly refilled mug in his hand.

All he’d been looking to do was track down some coffee. He’d certainly not expected to come across what he was looking at now…though, in hindsight, he supposed he should have seen it coming. In some ways, it was a surprise he hadn’t come across this before…

But it was still a bit of a shock to come across Nina curled up comfortably on Pietro’s lap, her arms around his neck as they kissed rather intently, one of his hands beginning to skim up beneath her shirt as he pulled her closer.

While one part of Steve was amused by the display of young love, even inclined to be indulgent and let them be—something the jealous teenager in him was all for given that he’d never had the opportunity himself—another part was certainly _not_ inclined to let it go on. Especially as Pietro’s hand kept wandering slowly higher. Part of him, a nearly paternal part bellowing that this was his best friend’s daughter, was very much not amused.

The pair were completely lost to the world, not even noticing he was even in the room or that he’d approached until Steve pointedly cleared his throat, his arms crossing authoritatively as he surveyed the young couple.

At the sound Nina and Pietro abruptly jerked apart, both of them panting faintly as a matching flush grew on their cheeks at being caught out. Especially Nina’s.

“And just how would your mother react had she been the one to find the two of you like this?” He couldn’t help the faint smirk that threatened as Nina’s flush deepened. “She is rather protective of you after all, Nina. Not to mention she’s still not quite happy with Pietro here after the way he was behaving a little while back.” Nina scoffed, fixing Steve with a defiant look that could rival Nadine’s. But when she spoke, a trace of her latent Russian accent broke through, revealing how apprehensive she actually was.

“C’mon, Steve. It’s not like she doesn’t know he’s my boyfriend.” Pietro started, a curious frown appearing on his face as he looked back to her. She shot him a questioning look of her own and a shrug. “What? Aren’t you my boyfriend?”

He seemed a little startled by the declaration, but a satisfied grin broke out across his face as he shrugged back, his arm tightening around her waist. “If you want me to be.”

It was hard not to miss the trace of relief in Nina’s eyes as she grinned at him before looking to Steve again, the look of defiance returning.

“It’s not a big deal,” she waved off. Steve merely quirked an eyebrow at her again, a knowing look on his face. She huffed after a moment, fighting not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Fine. It’s a little bit of a big deal,” she admitted with a grudging mutter before turning an indignant look to Steve. “But she does know, so what’s there to be upset about?” A commiserating almost-grin appeared on Pietro’s face as he pressed a light kiss to her temple before shooting Steve a look all but daring him to say something. Steve had to hide his own amusement as the speedster had to fight not to quail at the Captain’s reprimanding glance. Steve sighed; he hadn’t signed up to deal with, well…this. Soldiers, he could handle. The Avengers? Sure. Tony? A bit of a trial sometimes, but he managed.

But hormonal, in-love young people just barely on the adult side of teenagers?

Steve sighed heavily, taking his time before answering. “You’re probably right,” he admitted after a moment of scrutiny that had them both beginning to squirm uncomfortably. Nina nearly deflated with relief while Pietro let loose a relieved huff of his own.

Steve nearly laughed, but continued instead, unable to help the urge to caution them…at least a little. “But you know we’re just—we’re all a little protective of you, you know. Not just your mom but me and Nat and Barton; most of us, really. And I think we all just want to make sure you’re being, well…” An uncomfortable heat began rising up his neck, seeping toward his face as he trailed off, realizing even as the words rose to his lips how they were going to sound given what he’d caught the young couple doing. Nina’s eyes went wide as she abruptly looked away, filling in herself exactly where he’d been about to go with that line of thought and taking it precisely the way he’d just realized she probably would. Pietro just cleared his throat, looking pointedly away from Steve, his cheeks had growing distinctly pink as well. “…careful,” he finished, mostly managing to cover his discomfort with authority. The matching stricken looks on both their faces helped a little.

“Aww, c’mon now, Captain Rogers. I know I’m known for going fast, but we’re taking this slow,” Pietro piped up, shooting Steve a challenging look, though the nervous flicker in his eyes revealed the bravado to be forced, “is more fun, this way,” he grinned, meeting Nina’s gaze and drawing a faintly exasperated yet pleased smile from her. Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, fighting back the sudden urge to drag the young man to his feet and knock some sense into him…‘cause that would go over well…

“Nice try,” he answered dryly instead, “don’t forget, I was your age once, Maximoff; lightspeed seems slow when you’ve got a pretty dame on your lap.” …not that he’d ever been in that situation at that age… Pietro’s grin faded pretty quickly. “Besides, fast or slow, okay with you two dating as she is or not, you really think Nadine would be okay with the two of you getting that, err, into it out here in the Common Room? Or even at all?” Nina rolled her eyes at Steve’s observation but nevertheless paled once again. Pietro just laughed.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Steve,” Nina countered with an absent gesture, a faint waiver to her unconcerned tone, though a defiant and even mischievous light flickered in her eyes. Steve tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the familiar look, the urge to be protective on Bucky’s behalf surging forward again. Instead he forced himself to smile indulgently, reminding himself that they were both technically adults, young as they both still seemed.

Neither could he help but admit she did somewhat had a point though he nevertheless maintained his stern demeanour. It did seem more generally acceptable these days to be far more open with that kind of thing than he’d been raised to be…but still. More socially acceptable or not, it still wasn’t exactly appropriate to be making out in the Common Room, either. Although, he suddenly realized, if it was somewhere more private… He felt the back of his neck begin to warm. Maybe the Common Room wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

“Maybe you should try it?” Steve and Nina’s gazes both snapped to Pietro, Steve’s eyes narrowing while Nina’s went wide. Pietro just grinned wickedly, his eyes glinting as he leaned back. “Loosen you up, you know? Have a little fun. You could always ask Mm Ryker. You certainly like her enough that I’m sure you’d enjoy yourself.” Nina’s eyes went wider still, her cheeks suddenly flaming as she looked anxiously between Steve and her boyfriend.

“Pietro! That’s my mom you’re talking about,” Nina all but shrieked. Pietro blinked for a moment in bewilderment.

“But, you—” he murmured, but Nina cut him off, almost too quiet for Steve to hear.

“Yeah,” she hissed back, “but I don’t want to think about it like _that_. She’s my _Mom_! And—and it’s Steve!” Pietro’s confusion didn’t entirely ease, though his frown did, while Steve was caught somewhere between indignant, thanks to Nina’s reaction, and uncomfortable for the same reason, the back of his neck beginning to warm once more.

It certainly wasn’t that he’d never thought about it—he’d been distinctly trying to _stop_ thinking about it when he’d interrupted them—it was that it didn’t feel as inappropriate as his head kept trying to convince him it was.

And once more he was forcibly reminding himself that Nadine was the mother of his best friend’s child. That for that reason alone, nothing was going to happen between them. It couldn’t. That he had no way of knowing how Bucky felt about her—if he remembered her at all, he was always forced to consider with a pang—and that since that day when she’d first opened up about her past, Nadine had been all but stubbornly mum on the subject of her feelings for Bucky. He simply had no real idea if she could have feelings for him. She’d admitted once that she cared for Bucky, but despite her assertion that she didn’t hold any romantic feelings for him, it was still entirely possible that she had fallen for the Winter Soldier, or even the traces of Bucky that has broken through when she’d known him. It was possible that she had feelings for him that she just hadn’t been able to admit to herself.

He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Or he might just find himself taking Pietro’s advice.

“Nice try, Maximoff,” Steve replied as dryly and casually as he could, crossing his arms over his chest once more to play down any notion that Pietro was more than a little right. Pietro fixed Steve with an unreadable look.

One that nearly had Steve shifting uncomfortably.

Especially when he caught Nina hiding a glance disturbingly reminiscent of Natasha’s sly, considering looks. He swallowed back a sigh.

He was going to have to have a talk with Natasha…again, wasn’t he.

“Just keep the shenanigans to a minimum, guys,” he finished firmly. The pair of them just exchanged a look that didn’t leave him at all reassured, especially when Pietro snorted with amusement. Shaking his head with exasperation, Steve turned to retrieve his coffee and retreat back to the safety of his office and his paperwork.

Teenagers…


	86. Chapter 11

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Early Winter 2015**

The days were counting down and Nina was finding her excitement levels were inching higher every day.

As were her anxiety and nerves, but she was trying very hard to ignore that bit.

The day when she would be moving into her dorm, ready to start classes at MIT was coming ever closer. As her Aunt had implied that Stark had hinted, Nina had passed her exit exams with flying colours and her acceptance into the prestigious school had been secured.

So now it was just a matter of getting ready and waiting. Christmas was coming in just a couple weeks and after that?

University.

Thinking on it nearly had her bouncing with excitement.

Even Pietro was getting drawn into it, her cheerfulness bolstering his admittedly more reserved opinion on the dwindling days she had left at the Compound. Especially given his recent mood following the Avenger's first attempt to put a stop to a mercenary named Crossbones in Sudan. Long story short, it had not gone well, the former HYDRA operative slipping away from Captain Rogers, the Twins, Nat and Sam in no small part thanks to Pietro disregarding one of Steve's orders and deciding to take things into his own hands when he thought the Team wasn't doing enough fast enough.

It obviously hadn't panned out.

"You should have seen Captain Rogers lay into Pietro," Wanda had told Nina later, her voice heavy and grave. "I'm not sure I've ever seen him so angry. Not even during everything with Ultron." That Nina could imagine given what she'd also overheard a couple days after the failed mission.

"You're part of a team, now, Maximoff. You have your job to do just like everyone else and you have to trust that your teammates can do their job just as well as you can. Wanting to make sure the bad guy doesn't get away and wanting to protect your team is understandable," the Captain had been saying just as gravely as Wanda had been telling Nina about the whole thing, his frustration and disappointment clearly evident, "but we need to be working together. We lost out on Rumlow because you thought you knew best and you didn't trust your team. We can't do our job if we don't trust each other. You have to focus on your job, on the mission. If you don't? That's when someone gets killed." And Pietro hadn't taken it as well as he could have, meaning he hadn't taken it well at all. It had taken several days for Nina and Wanda to snap him of his foul mood and get him to understand Steve's point, though the resentment and certainty on his part that he had done the right thing still lingered to some extent.

What definitely didn't help any of them was that after what had happened in Sudan, Crossbones seemed to be getting bolder now that he knew the Avengers were onto him. If he hadn't been on the Avengers' radar before, he certainly would've been now. Which meant there was now an added drive to get ahead of him.

It was certainly never boring around the Compound, that was for sure.

And Nina was going to miss it. All of it. The training. The place itself. Even the tension and anticipation that came from an active mission held an odd sort of appeal.

But especially the people. Nina was especially going to miss seeing the people she had come to care about within the Compound everyday. Pietro, certainly, though that one would be a little easier since he'd promised with a wonderfully roguish light in his eye that he would visit often. She would miss Wanda and the Captain and definitely her Aunt Nat. Sam, Rhodey and Vision. Even Stark's odd sporadic and unannounced visits.

And she would miss her mom. No question there. She was used to being occasionally separated on some level—Nadine had been leaving Nina to look after herself for short spans of time for a couple years, now when she had gone off on missions. But going away to school and her mom popping off on a mission? Those were two very different things. And it left a tremoring bundle of nerves hiding just beneath her breastbone at the thought.

Not to mention her increasing worry for her mom.

While Nina was pretty sure she had gotten through to her mom on some level about staying that first time and the successive times she'd brought it up since, she still wasn't reassured that her mom wasn't still genuinely planning on moving on once Nina was settled off at school. She had Natasha's assurances, of course, that the redheaded spy was working on it too, but there was a restless energy that Nina could just feel around her mom that had her worrying.

And she couldn't help but think that Nadine moving on from the Compound and the Avengers was one of the worst decisions Nadine could make.

Oh, from a practical, even tactical perspective, each and every one of her mom's reasons had made perfect sense. Rationally, Nina even had to admit Nadine might be right that she had lingered too long.

But so far as Nadine's happiness was concerned?

Perhaps Nina hadn't known her mom as well as she once thought she had, but that didn't mean she didn't  _know_  Nadine.

And Nina was observant. Nadine had said so herself. Perhaps not so much as others she knew, like Natasha, but she was certainly not blind.

Though, she suspected even a blind person could see what was happening.

Her mom liked Captain Rogers. Like, really liked. And judging by the way Nina had noticed the Captain watching her mom back? His reactions when she and Pietro had been teasing him when he'd caught them in the Common Room the other day?

The way he'd blushed, Nina recalled with a pleased squirm of satisfaction?

He definitely liked Nadine too.

Finding out her mom and Captain Rogers had a similar appreciation for classic big band music? That had been eye-opening, for sure, especially to see them smiling and laughing about it. Seeing them working together to anticipate Crossbones' next move? Observing their lunches after their weekly—and sometimes twice-weekly, now—sparring sessions? There was obviously a connection and a quickly growing sense of comfort with each other that Nina couldn't deny made her own heart flutter on her mom's behalf. There was definitely a chemistry there…on multiple levels. And it made Nina incredibly hopeful.

Heck, when they sparred? It looked like a dance. It was every bit as impressive to watch as when either of them went up against Natasha. But it was somehow different when it was her mom and Steve. More. Almost…intimate.

And when, just the week before, she'd caught a glimpse of the Captain impulsively grabbing Nadine's hand and giving her a little spin during one of their sparring sessions? Nina's heart had nearly thrummed happily right out of her chest. She hadn't been exaggerating to her mom when she'd said Nadine seemed happier around Steve. The look on her mom's face had been one she hadn't truly seen before they had moved into the Compound. Not until she'd started spending time with Steve.

Happy. Truly happy. Nadine had been having fun. And Steve had been smiling, his eyes almost sparkling with laughter as Nadine scolded him despite subtly leading him through a few simple steps, seemingly perfectly content in his arms.

Of course, her mom had then promptly laid him out on his ass, but still. It surprisingly hadn't quite broken the moment to see her kneeling over him as she smirked and he groaned at having let his guard down.

The only real question was if either of them had realized what was happening between them or, perhaps more importantly, if they both realized that the feelings that seemed to be growing between them were reciprocated. In that, Nina suspected the answer was a resounding  _no_.

At least it was in her mom's case. Steve was hard to read in that regard. It seemed like it the other day. But then there were times when he almost seemed to remind himself of something when he caught himself looking at Nadine and the hints on his face that he liked her would disappear. But then, as Nina thought about it…there were brief, fleeting moments when she could almost swear her mom did the same. So maybe they weren't as oblivious to their own feelings as she thought. Each other's, maybe… But one thing she was fairly certain of was that neither one had acted on it.

Which meant that now it was just a matter of getting them to do just that.

Because honestly? Everyone knew. It was going to happen. Wanda had known without even having to read their thoughts. Natasha definitely knew, having asked Nina if she noticed it during one of their earliest 'niece/aunt' bonding dates. She'd probably noticed before Nina had, really. She was fairly sure whenever Clint popped in to visit or they all visited the Barton farm that he saw it as easily as if it was written in neon lights. Laura definitely did. Sam suspected. Pietro had obviously figured it out given how he'd been baiting Steve the other day… She was pretty sure even Vision had some notion, and he was so adorably naïve about human interaction, sometimes.

But surprisingly, Nat had told Nina to back off about the whole issue.

"We've given them everything they need," her aunt had assured her the day before as they'd settled at their table, specialty coffees in hand—delicious coffees, Nina remembered with a grin. "Now they just need to wrap their heads around what we've made them realize and let the rest happen naturally." Nina had groaned, impatient.

"Can't we, you know," she'd said with a vague gesture, "give them a push?" She'd huffed when Natasha had raised a brow at her, prompting her to correct herself. "…more of a push?" Natasha had shaken her head, a fond grin tugging at her lips.

"There's history to be worked around," she'd finally said far more sedately than she'd been so far during the conversation. "You know your mom's got history that's not entirely pleasant with your father that she's still working to come to terms with on top of finding him, and Steve's got hang-ups of his own. You know he periodically goes to visit the woman he was in love with back in the forties, right?"

Nina had only been able to nod solemnly. Pretty much everyone working with the Captain had some idea that he regularly went to visit Peggy Carter in her nursing home, and had been doing so since not long after the Battle of New York. And it was undoubtedly hard on him. Nina might not know the Captain as well as Natasha or even her mom, but she'd definitely been able to see the sad shadow that always seemed to hang over Steve whenever he came back from one of his visits.

Nina had been struck by the thought then that perhaps that was part of why her mom was holding back. On top of her perhaps wanting to get some closure between her and Nina's father after whatever it was that had happened between them first—something Nina could admittedly understand the need for—maybe Nadine didn't want to overstep when Steve was still attached to his old lady-love. And maybe that was why Steve was hanging back too. Could he feel bad about liking someone else? It was so frustrating!

Couldn't Nadine see that Steve was interested in her now?

Didn't he know that it was okay to love someone else after so much time?

Nina just couldn't quite understand it. Just as she still wasn't sure she understood her aunt's insistence that they back off for the time being for all that she had begrudgingly given her word. Surely it was better to…to  _do_  something! Obviously neither of them had quite gotten the messages, blunt and otherwise if they weren't doing anything about it.

Right?

Nina huffed now just as she had during her and Nat's coffee date. Why did it have to be so complicated? Couldn't her mom and Steve just get together so her mom could be happy?

Nat's expression had softened at Nina's frustrated huff, and she had reached out to squeeze Nina's hand in reassurance as the twinkle came back to her bright green eyes.

"Don't worry," she'd said slyly. "It'll happen. The push just needs to come from one of them, now. If it were to come from one of us at this point? We risk them just digging in their heels and never admitting they like each other." And grudgingly, Nina had to admit Natasha had a point. That did sound like something her mom would do.

So she had backed off. Nina hadn't said a word to her mom about Steve since her chat with Natasha, difficult as it was to withstand the temptation. It was just so  _obvious_!

She flopped back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

And there she had hoped something might happen before she went off to school. It would've admittedly made her feel a bit better about leaving her mom. But that was seeming more and more unlikely as the days and weeks passed.

Not to mention she wanted to be there when it happened. Though she was still undecided if there was going to be an 'I told you so' involved when it finally did. Because it was going to happen. She had taken her aunt's reassurance that it would to bolster her own optimism.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Nina cocked her head up at the sound of Wanda's voice, not quite willing to pull herself all the way upright just yet. Wanda had invited herself in, apparently, and was currently edging her way around Nina's room, shooting the younger blonde a curious, questioning look. Nina wrinkled her nose at her friend before sighing and relaxing back against the comforter. Hmm. She hadn't realized her mental defenses had gone up. It really was becoming quite instinctive to have her powers shielding her mind almost constantly, now. Most of the time she didn't even recognize that she was doing it anymore. Really, it was just so much a part of her now, she barely even thought about the comforting warmth that lived in the centre of her chest or the hazy barrier that safely surrounded her thoughts these days.

"My mom," she answered simply. Wanda made a faint sound of understanding as Nina said it. Nina huffed, forcing herself to turn over so she was lying on her stomach, her chin on her crossed arms as she watched Wanda poke through the jewellery laid out on her dresser; there were a couple new pieces her Aunt had talked her into when they'd been out yesterday, Natasha proving far too enthusiastic an aunt when it came to shopping. For someone who didn't wear much in the way of jewellery—understandable, of course, given Nat's occupation—and stuck to practical clothes, Natasha certainly did like shopping…though Nina suspected that was just as much a case of living vicariously through Nina on that score than anything else. "And Captain Rogers." Wanda's eyes glinted impishly as she spared a glance at Nina.

"You're still not happy Natasha told you to back off, are you." Nina scowled half-heartedly at the brunette.

"Would you be? It's so  _obvious_ , Wanda."

Wanda made an assenting sound in response. Nina blew a loose strand of hair back from her face, absently reaching up to tuck it back into her messy bun.

"Have there been any hints that either of them are going to make a move?"

Wanda spared Nina a commiserating look. "Well, she definitely likes him as much as he likes her. I can get that much without even trying. But they're very careful about it, so it's hard to catch why they aren't acting on it. Especially since your Mom's been practicing at guarding her mind against my powers. I think they're both trying hard not to think about it, to be honest." She shot Nina an admonishing look then. "Besides, you know I don't actively look into people's heads. Especially teammates. It's rude."

Nina's nose wrinkled again as she pulled herself up to sit cross-legged on her comforter, reaching over to the pair of shirts laid out on the far corner of her bed. She tossed them to Wanda.

"Nat made me," she said with a wry grin. "And next time, you're coming too. I swear, the woman's favourite past-time is shopping for other people…and meddling with other people, come to think of it." Wanda giggled, examining the tops.

"They're cute," she said, holding up the charcoal one with a subtle paler grey and baby blue geometric pattern overlaying the front panel, "I like this one." She grinned up at Nina, and suddenly the younger girl was feeling wary at the impish light that appeared in her friend's eyes. "And I won't say no. I like shopping for other people too." Nina groaned, tossing a pillow at the older girl. Wanda simply flicked her fingers, sending it flying back on a scarlet wave to Nina, laughing as the blonde's own powers negated the tendrils to let the pillow drop to the floor with a soft thump.

But then Wanda's expression grew sympathetic again, though there was a rather self-assured cast to it as she draped the pair of shirts over the chair next to Nina's dresser as she returned to their primary topic of conversation. "Don't worry, though. Your mom will catch on. I'm sure of it. And your mom is definitely one to go after what she wants once she decides what she wants," Wanda said with a wicked glint in her eye as she glanced up from once again perusing Nina's Natasha-encouraged collection of jewellery. She slipped one of the rings on, considering it before swapping it out for a different one.

Nina snorted as she watched her friend amuse herself. "You have no idea," she agreed with a grin. Wanda smiled brightly, still examining the ring she had put on as she all but skipped over to the bed.

"So? Did you get it?" Wanda said, changing the subject as she flopped herself down next to her blonde friend. Nina smiled at the question, glancing over to her side table where a rather nondescript box containing a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers hat sat.

"Yeah, I got it," she said with a self-satisfied and eager grin of her own. "It arrived yesterday."

"Steve's going to love it," Wanda declared, smiling widely. Nina giggled, pulling out and re-twisting up her hair as she did.

"Figuring out Christmas gifts is so much easier with you being able to read people's minds," Nina said with a laugh. Wanda grinned, and with a flick of her fingers, summoned Nina's laptop toward them with a cloud of crimson vapour as she was scooting back to make herself comfortable among Nina's collection of pillows, gesturing for Nina to join her.

"Of course," she quipped impishly, her eyes gleaming happily. "Now, what do we do for Pietro…"


	87. Chapter 12

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Winter 2015/16**

Nadine was honestly beginning to develop a rather large headache. She was not making much headway at all—at least, not as much as she would've liked—and Nadine was beginning to move past mildly restless into full on frustrated. But she had to persevere.

It had been weeks since Nina had been dropped off in Cambridge. Weeks since the anxious, unsettled  _missing_  feeling had settled in her chest, refusing to abate.

"Congrats on being an empty nester," Nat had teased the day after the two of them had seen Nina happily settled in her dorm at MIT. Not that her chipper projection had quite hidden the wary way she'd been eying Nadine ever since 'The Drop-Off,' as the day had been unofficially christened. And for good reason, not that Nadine was interested in showing it.

Especially as Nadine seemed to be having a harder time adjusting than Nina. Every time she talked to her daughter, Nina's enthusiasm was nearly tangible. She was enjoying her classes even though the stress was starting to pile on with assignments and midterms fast approaching. But all in all, Nina seemed to be flourishing. She had made some study friends and still kept regular contact with Pietro and Wanda and even the Bartons on top of Nadine and Natasha.

She was thriving, really. Nina had even gone on at length about how she had been reaching out to Stark at his insistence to talk over concepts discussed in her lectures or her practicals, sometimes even topics touched on in her textbooks that they weren't due to talk about until much later.

Nadine was not so lucky. She honestly missed her daughter terribly and it was wearing on her. Enough so that she'd very nearly broken the agreement that the two of them had made that Nadine wouldn't visit until after midterms. To let Nina adjust, had been the reasoning.

At least Spring Break was coming soon.

Hell, that thought alone had been part of what had gotten her through dropping Nina off in the first place; the reminder that she would see her again soon enough. Especially as she'd—probably foolishly—decided to stay at the Compound until at least then…just so Nina had a secure and familiar place to retreat to if she had trouble adjusting, or so she was continuously convincing herself. Besides, the decision had made Nina happy. And seeing Nina so happy that day reassured Nadine that letting her go was the right call. It reassured her more than she could say. It had made the aching hole in her chest feel a little less potent.

Not that she'd allowed Nina to see how emotional she'd felt even if the knowing and suspiciously bright gleam in her daughter's eyes that day had suggested Nina had been on the same page. For all that Nina's visible excitement and confidence had been immeasurably reassuring, it had still been a hard day. An emotional day.

Parents usually cried, right? Didn't they? Wasn't that the typical experience? The child, no longer wholly a child, was dropped off, ready and eager and nervous about starting the next stage of their life while the parent looked on, proud and sad and equally nervous all at once?

Well, Nadine had certainly held to the norm, there. She was proud. More proud than she could ever hope to put into words. So proud of her little girl's determination her chest felt like were it to expand any further there would be physical damage done.

And there had been the requisite sadness too. Still was. It was the end of a chapter. Of many chapters, really; some big, some small and some welcome while others certainly weren't. She missed having her baby close by.

Then there were the nerves. Only, in Nadine's case, 'nerves' was a sore understatement. She was near terrified. The campus was as secure as a campus could be. And that wasn't even counting the measures Nat had apparently worked up with Stark.

But she hadn't cried…okay, maybe her eyes had gotten a little damp, but she hadn't cried outright the way she imagined some of the other mothers and no few fathers had back when the majority of the new students had been dropped off.

But frustrating as her own inability to stop dwelling on the hole Nina's absence left, that wasn't what was at the heart of her current bout of frustration.

Just as it had been weeks since Nina left, it had been weeks since Nadine had been freed to devote her time and energy solely to her mission. To finding Barnes.

But so far, she was failing.

Or, at least, so it felt. The track she was on was a good one. She knew it was. An absent comment from Natasha on one of their visits over the course of the Fall to the Barton homestead had gotten Clint thinking and he'd proceeded to ask if Nadine had given any thought to safehouses. Old safehouses. Defunct ones.

HYDRA ones.

And her mind had started working and hadn't stopped.

So, between what she'd dug up during her clean up after Madame B and what Natasha had made public during the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nadine had started looking into just that. For the last while, the bulk of her efforts had been devoted to digging into HYDRA records and whatever KGB records she could find to search for safehouses that Barnes could potentially know about to use; tracing financial records, old mission reports, holdings of confirmed HYDRA fronts, searching for anywhere Barnes could've gone to ground.

Unfortunately, seventy years was a long time and HYDRA kept surprisingly good records, if sometimes oblique and less than forthright—not surprising considering the secretive, shadowy nature of the organization. There was a great deal of analysis, deciphering, cross-referencing and reading between the lines required to so much as make heads or tails of any of it, much less make a comprehensive list of potential safehouse sites.

Luckily, making such connections was near child's play for someone as extensively trained and experienced as Nadine. Not to mention she had the advanced assistance of Stark's state of the art U.I. systems and a particularly clever little algorithm Nina had been working on with Natasha before she'd made her decision to head off to school. But nevertheless, it was still drudging, time-consuming work thanks to the sheer volume of data to be sorted through.

And that wasn't even counting the follow-up still to be done on the ever-growing list of sites she had identified to eliminate the most unlikely sites. Like ones that had only been active outside the Winter Soldier's periods of activity or ones that literally no longer existed. Even ones that were still active would be unlikely options; too much risk of someone unfriendly showing up intending to use it.

To say her brain was starting to hurt was an understatement of the highest degree.

But at this point? She was running out of avenues that held any promise. Even now that it had been reconstructed to some degree after Ultron's meddling, the worldwide facial recognition program S.H.I.E.L.D. had developed was so far drawing a blank no matter how Nadine adjusted the parameters; it was either finding too much or nothing…though, admittedly, was still helping to narrow down locations as well, to some extent.

So her only real option besides keeping her ear to the ground and her eyes peeled for him to reappear or let some sort of clue to his whereabouts slip, was this one. As far as she was concerned? She was down to her last real shot. And now that Nina was off at school? She had the uninterrupted time to devote her complete and undivided attention to the process; a silver lining to Nina's absence, or so she tried to convince herself.

As it stood right now? She was estimating that, at her current rate, she was looking at a couple months to narrow her still compiling master list to a much more manageable and workable list of sites to investigate. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than sitting and waiting in the hopes that Barnes would make a mistake and show up on her radar. Besides, she was used to the long game.

So she had settled in and resolved to keep at it. However long it took. She was persistent, and it would pay off.

It had to.

It also helped that, from time to time, Natasha would lend her own substantial skill to the search, keeping Nadine company as she did and appraising her of the Compound's goings on; updating her on the Twins' progress and how the hunt for Crossbones was going, and so on. Sadly, it was not as often as Nadine might have liked. Nat had her own responsibilities, after all, what with her work with the Avengers on her plate and the search for Rumlow still weighing heavily on the Team. The man was proving frustratingly adept at cropping up and vanishing again, slipping away before the Avengers had even hit the ground to engage him.

If they even managed to get in the air in the first place once they'd caught wind that he was moving.

Not to mention they were still having…internal issues.

Pietro was still having trouble adjusting. It wasn't the most accurate term, but it came the closest. He just couldn't seem to get used to the idea that he now had a team to back him up. When they spoke to him about it, he seemed to genuinely understand well enough, but in practice?

"Pietro's still struggling with doing what he's told in favour of doing what he thinks needs to be done. He just can't seem to see the big picture when actually on mission. That on top of his preoccupation with looking out for Wanda even knowing that she doesn't need him to? It's driving Steve up the wall," Natasha had grumbled the last time she'd dropped in to lend her expertise to Nadine's search and escape to the quiet of Nadine's work area. "And frankly, me too. I get that it's hard to get used to suddenly working with a team when you've only ever been on your own—believe me—but still." Even the trial mission to bring down an arms ring operating out of southern Turkey they'd gone out on to give Pietro another chance to prove himself following the Crossbones incident had been less than encouraging. Despite his apparent improvements during training since Sudan?

Pietro had broken ranks and gone in on his own. The mission had ultimately been a success, but that hadn't been the point.

What made it worse was that his heart was in the right place; his sole focus was on getting the bad guy and keeping his companions out of harm's way. But in their line of work? Noble an intention as it was, it wasn't how being part of a team worked. Not to mention it was dangerous.

So until he learned that? The Twins had been grounded until Pietro could get his act together to Steve and Natasha's satisfaction.

"I'm sure it doesn't help either that he has issues with taking orders in the first place," Nadine had commented dryly, only barely managing to hide her small grin of amusement at the unimpressed look Nat had spared her at the admittedly on-the-nose observation. "How's Wanda managing?" she'd asked then, changing the subject slightly. Nat had sighed, shrugging absently.

"Wanda's still holding back," Natasha had admitted, a thread of disappointment to her tone. "She's still antsy about her powers. She really scared herself bad in Sokovia, with Ultron and the sentries. And Paris didn't help her work past it as much as we thought it did." Nadine had hummed in agreement. It was something she had noticed during the training she'd been heading before Nina had gone off to school. Something she had yet to take back up again, she'd realized then; a pang of regret had hit her at the thought but she'd brushed it aside. She had to make Barnes her priority the way it should have been since she'd decided to stay at the Compound. She'd looked to Natasha then.

"Do you still think they're ready for the field?" At Nadine's question Natasha had leaned back in her chair, her features going nearly blank as resignation thinned her lips.

"Honestly?" she said, sounding particularly weary as she absently rubbed her temple, "Pietro? No. Not if you're sending them both out; he's still too overprotective and I think that's at the heart of his other issues. Especially now that he's 'adopted' the team as his responsibility; a subconscious impulse, I think, but still a problem. But Wanda?" Natasha had shrugged. "That's a much harder call to make. As it stands now, I'd be inclined to say no. But then, before our mission in Paris, I was prepared to say the same thing, and she did step up. I'm still not entirely convinced she was ready, but it did her good." She had looked up to Nadine then. "I think if we were to bring her out, she'd step up again. She knows her stuff, she just needs the field experience to build her confidence." Nadine had nodded absently in agreement as she processed her sister's assessment. She was inclined to agree with all she'd heard since Natasha and Steve had made the decision to start considering the Twins active members of the Avengers.

Natasha had promptly huffed then, dropping her head back against the back of her seat as she continued her line of thought. "But Pietro? We're just not sure how to get through to him. I think we've finally done it, but then? As soon as we're out there, facing real bad guys and real weapons? It's like all the exercises go right out the window. He just…he reverts," Natasha had vented. "It's like he's still trying to operate as though it's just him and Wanda taking out…theft rings or whatever in Nova Grad. But I know he knows the Team can't operate like that. He just…" she had trailed off with a huff, then, straightening to tap angrily at her keyboard as she adjusted the sorting algorithm she had been working up. Nadine had offered her sister a sympathetic look at that, but she'd had little advice to offer beyond giving him time and continuing to work with him…and maybe only bringing one twin out on missions at a time.

Rather like her work with tracking Barnes; time and persistence and focusing on one thing at a time was going to be the key in her search just like it would be with Pietro.

Nadine sighed, leaning back in her chair as she set another set of parameters for the Compound's iteration of Stark's U.I. to implement. Satisfied, she rolled away from the computer back to the table where she had the folders containing meticulously organized financial reports laid out, picking up the one she'd been partway through cross-referencing.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're avoiding me." Nadine very nearly started, turning to look up at the wry yet still somehow concerned comment. Steve stood in the door to her private workroom in the Compound where she housed all her research, his arms loosely crossed and watching her with an oddly unreadable expression. She offered an attempt at an apologetic smile and turned back to the file in her hands.

"Sorry," she said, fully aware of how distracted she sounded, "I've been a little preoccupied, I suppose." She could practically feel how unconvinced he was with the answer.

"You know, it's okay to miss her. But you don't have to bury yourself away back here." Nadine looked up to Steve sharply, a lump forming in her throat. And suddenly realization was edging in on her.

She was suddenly struck by the unsettled feeling that her single-minded focus had been just as much about having a means of getting her mind off the fact that Nina was no longer at the Compound and safely under her supervision as about tracking down Barnes.

She inhaled deeply as she closed the file, collecting herself and ensuring her voice would be level when she answered.

"You're right," she said then, looking up to Steve. "I do miss having her close, and I suppose it's not an adjustment I'm making as well as I thought I was…but I do also have to focus on this," she said, gesturing to the file in her hands, "I've spent so much time—"

"You'll find him, Nadine. Neither Nat nor I have any doubts on that. We all know it'll take time. But you're allowed to have a life too," he interrupted then. She could only blink at him.

"I—I do—"

"No, you don't. You have Nina, and while Nina was here, you also had training; with the team, with me and Nat… But since she left? Don't think we all haven't noticed you've been pulling back from that. You enjoyed it, I know you did. I think you even enjoyed giving us pointers on finding Rumlow. Why give all that up just because Nina's not involved anymore?" A faint grin tugged at his lips, and her stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"I have, haven't I," she murmured almost to herself. That really was what she'd been doing, wasn't it. Nadine was once again retreating into herself now that she didn't have Nina around to keep the more social and interpersonal part of herself from being overwhelmed by her drive to focus on her mission; her bridge she recalled with a small, unconscious smile.

It was then that the implications truly sunk in about the fact that it had been a couple weeks since she'd last consulted with Nat and Steve about tracing Rumlow's movements just like she had yet to take her role as a consulting instructor back up since Nina left. She was distancing herself even as she was turning her focus to her mission.

And her gut ached as she realized that—guilty as she suddenly felt for indulging in even the idea that she wanted to do more than just focus on her task to find Barnes—she missed it. All of it. Her role as a consulting instructor. Her down time with her sister.

Her sparring sessions with Steve and the increasingly pleasant time in each other's company that had often followed.

Her focus had turned wholly to her objective to find Barnes at the expense of everything else. She just hadn't been able to help the impulse. Now that she was thinking about it, on more than one occasion of the past few weeks, she would turn around and realize that several days had passed without so much as leaving her work save to eat and sleep. She couldn't remember the last time she'd talked to the Bartons. Steve smiled sympathetically, edging further into the room to lean against the table next to her.

"You've been sequestering yourself away in here," he said lightly but no less soberly, "and believe it or not, we all actually miss having you around," he added, his friendly grin widening. Nadine's stomach flipped again, twisting this time in a way that was unsettlingly pleasant. He actually, genuinely meant it, she realized as she studied his features. As though sensing that he'd managed to get through to her, he smiled and the irritating little flutter returned.

"C'mon," he said firmly, nodding behind him toward the door, "sparring session. Then I have it on good authority that Nat is intending to drag you away from the Compound for—and I quote—retail therapy." He looked mildly bewildered at the idea but grinned when she snorted out a laugh. But then she sobered as her gaze fell back on the spread of files before her.

"But, Steve—" she protested weakly with a half-hearted gesture around her. But he was already shaking his head.

And then he was taking hold of her wrist in such a way that she automatically gripped his back, nudging her chair back with his foot to pull her to her feet. "No buts, Ryker," he countered with a thread of authority in his amused tone. "You've been holed up in here by yourself for too long. You need a break. A real break," he added as she opened her mouth to object. "Something different than staring at files and computer screens all day." Huffing and putting on a scowl to mask her own involuntary grin, she let him herd her from the room.

And a little part of her was disappointed that he'd let go of her as he did so. She shook the thought away.

There she'd been hoping she was beginning to move past that…apparently not.

Exiting her workroom, they walked in a companionable silence for a while, long enough that the antsy, guilty feeling that she shouldn't be wasting time that she could be spending on her mission began to grow once again. Something that she was suddenly wondering if Steve had picked up on as he turned to glance down at her before speaking.

"So how's Nina doing?" Nadine smiled at the question, the hollow spot in her chest suddenly feeling minutely smaller.

"Good. She'd doing very well. She loves it there, and it sounds like she'd doing better than expected; her professors seem quite impressed. She was even saying that a couple of them have made noises about 'skipping' her up to a couple of the higher-level courses. But then," Nadine said with a proud yet sly grin, "she does have a Stark in her back pocket that she's been taking advantage of. Both of them, actually, come to think of it. Last we talked, she was telling me about some of the ideas, and calculations she'd been passing back and forth with Stark about tactile user interfaces, frequency modulations and something about streamlining the processing requirements that a comment from one of her professors got her thinking of. They might even have something, she thinks." She grinned up at Steve, nearly faltering at the fond expression he was watching her with. One that didn't seem entirely due to her rambling update on Nina.

It was then that she realized what he'd been doing and a grateful smile of her own broke out on her face. "Thank you, Steve." His lip quirked as he looked away.

"What for?"

She was nearly tempted to roll her eyes at the faint smile belying the feigned innocence in his tone.

"For this," she finally said simply. "For getting me out of my own head." He shrugged.

"Everyone needs a break from themselves from time to time," he said with a wry grin even as his eyes began to twinkle. "Helps keep everyone in top form." She bit back a chuckle at the faintly wry way he'd said it, easing the very real point he had. "And since Nina's not here to help keep you from getting stuck inside your own head? Well, we'll call my looking out for you in her stead a way for me to show her my appreciation for her excellent sense of what to give people for Christmas," he teased gently. The corner of her lip quirked before she could help herself; Steve had been rather blown away by the Brooklyn Dodgers cap that Nina and Wanda had put their heads together to track down. But she could feel her grin at the memory of his emotion-filled features and disbelieving laugh—not to mention the tight hug he'd pulled Nina into or the almost choked way he'd thanked her—begin to grow sad, fighting the way her thoughts threatened to turn sombre again…to confess just where her morose mood was coming from. But around him? She wasn't entirely successful. She sighed. Around him she felt comfortable letting herself be honest.

"It's just…doing this?" she finally said, "focusing in on searching for  _him_? I feel like I'm doing something…useful. Necessary. Constructive, even, if you want to put it that way. And when Nina's around? Even though she doesn't actively need me to look after her anymore? It's still the same feeling to just  _be_  there for her. Like I'm doing something meaningful. Like I have a purpose. I can't…I can't just turn it off. And if I try to even take a step back? Then I'm left fighting the feeling that I have to leave, to go back underground; that it's time to move on. And I can't move on yet. Not with Nina still thinking of the Compound as home and Barnes…" she trailed off wearily, at a loss for words.

"I can't just do  _nothing_ ," she finally concluded, feeling suddenly self-conscious at having just rambled on. Steve paused, his fingertips brushing against her elbow to stop her in the middle of the corridor. His features were simultaneously sympathetic and thoughtful as he looked down at her…and determined. Nadine frowned.

"Start working with us, then," he said, "as more than just a training consultant." Nadine blinked, not even aware that she was looking to him in very clear bewilderment.

"What?"

He grinned faintly, studying her as he clarified: "with the Avengers." At once Nadine's head was shaking as she processed what he was saying.

'No. No, Steve," she objected, carefully keeping the stunned waver from her voice, "I'm not an Avenger. Training is one thing, but…I'm not going there." His grin once more grew sympathetic as his hand landed on her shoulder. She pointedly ignored the pleasant warmth of the gesture or the sudden pleased flutter in her belly.

"You don't have to," he countered. "Just run support. Consult with us. Help us out when we need an extra set of eyes. You don't even have to go in on the ground if you don't want to." She swallowed thickly, looking away from the Captain's earnest gaze. She resumed their leisurely pace, Steve easily falling into step beside her.

"I don't know, Steve," she finally admitted softly, part of her uneasy at how vulnerable she suddenly sounded. He let out a slow exhale.

"I know," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Just think about it."

As much as part of her insisted she shouldn't even entertain the notion, she knew even as her pulse began to speed up with anticipation that she would do just that.

Just as another part of her already knew the decision had been made the instant he'd made the offer.


	88. Chapter 13

**Lagos, Nigeria**

**Spring 2016**

Nadine did think about Steve's offer. About stepping up her role as a consultant with the Avengers to something more hands on than just as an instructor. To give herself something more to occupy her time and her thoughts beyond her mission to find Barnes. Something more to give her purpose with Nina off at school and her mission slowing to a crawl as her algorithms slogged through the sheer volume of data to narrow down avenues to investigate in her search.

Because she had needed it. Even the release of tension that came from the conversation Steve had drawn her into before they'd even reached the training room had made it painfully clear in retrospect that she'd been on the road to burning herself out. And she'd been far closer to it than she cared to admit.

The next morning Nat had found Nadine pouring over her and Steve's work on tracking Rumlow. The morning after, she took over their training session.

And she took up Steve on his offer.

Though, she still wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to find herself in this particular situation…

…holed up in a hotel room in Lagos, Nigeria as the team prepared to take out Crossbones.

She blamed her sister.

Blame aside, they had finally done it. Together, once Steve had almost literally dragged Nadine out of her self-imposed seclusion, she and Natasha—with contributions from Steve thanks to his history working with Rumlow—had finally managed to pinpoint a pattern to Crossbones' movements, located communication traces of his business dealings and had narrowed down his next move. If his pattern held true? He was preparing to hit a police station in Lagos.

The very police station the Avengers currently had staked out.

This was their chance. The Team had been chasing after his shadow for long enough—nearly six months, now, since Nadine had put him on their radar—and they had no intention of letting him slip away again. They were going to make sure of that.

It was part of how Natasha had convinced Nadine to come along on this OP. So that, if it came right down to it? If it became clear that he was on the verge of slipping away again?

Nadine would take him out.

But until then—if it was even necessary—she was their back-up strategist and their situations analyst. Another set of eyes. Thanks to Stark's tech up in orbit by way of satellites and telemetry sent back to the pair of laptops she sat before from Sam's goggles, she was keeping tabs on the team's position and the lay of the land as she usually did from back at the Compound when she provided back up, ready to call warnings or options as she saw them in real time.

A coordinator, even, helping keep everyone apprised of positions and developments as they happened.

So naturally, she was positioned in an upper floor hotel room with a clear line of sight to the police station across the street; the Team's makeshift base of operations. Close but not quite in the heart of the action and safely tucked out of sight as befitted her role as analyst and last resort measure.

Across the room, Steve was looking discreetly out the window down to the street, careful to keep out of sight as he peered between the pale curtains. In their ears, they were listening with half an ear as Wanda received her tea from the waitress of the café where she sat down in front of the hotel, keeping her own inconspicuous eye on Crossbones' anticipated target. Not far away, Nadine knew Natasha was positioned between Wanda and the street at her own table, likely carefully maintaining the appearance of a relaxed patron sipping her own coffee as Nadine knew she would be doing in her sister's shoes.

As Wanda thanked the waitress, Nadine was absently pleased with how collected Wanda sounded. She knew the youngest of their group was nervous about the mission though she was doing a commendable job of hiding it. Though how much of that came from nerves and how much from feeling guilty that Pietro had been left behind back at the Compound, Nadine wasn't entirely sure.

For a time after the Sudan mission and the mission in Turkey that had followed, it had looked like Pietro was improving. Enough that after being benched through the next mission, he'd been brought out again when the Team had been put on the trail of a rogue group of Serbian gun smugglers a couple weeks before.

It had gone…better, but still not as well as they had hoped. And Steve had made the tough call to bench Pietro for the Lagos mission as a result. Something Nadine and Natasha had gravely agreed with after a great deal of discussion between them. As much of an asset as Pietro and his abilities would undoubtedly be, the liability his rash attitude posed at the same time was too high to balance it out. For all that he had made a marked improvement in the near year it had been since Sokovia, Pietro was still far too headstrong and impulsive on the whole. Not to mention that, in the heat of the moment, he still didn't quite seem to feel he really answered to anyone save Wanda if he didn't want to. And even that was hit or miss, sometimes.

Case in point was his apparent tendency to step out and visit Nina in Cambridge right under their noses. Not that that really should've been so surprising. But it had been the last straw for Steve. Almost as soon as Natasha and Nadine had made their breakthrough and settled on Lagos as Rumlow's next target, Steve had called to Team together.

And Pietro had been nowhere to be found.

When he'd finally reappeared back at the Compound, Steve had told him he was grounded. It had not gone over well, to say the least.

But Wanda was handling the whole situation admirably, and for that Nadine was quite proud of the younger girl. Just as she was pleased with her performance on this mission thus far.

"You settled, Wanda?" Nadine asked softly as the waitress moved off. A faint hum of confirmation was her answer, but Nadine didn't need anything more. "Sam? You're in position?"

"Check, Command," the former paratrooper answered cheekily, earning a fond quirk of the lip from the blonde assassin and a barely stifled huff from Natasha. "You're covered from above."

"Nat?" Steve asked, bringing them back on task.

"We're good down here," the redhead confirmed, "though he'd better show up soon; I get too many more refills and I'm going to start drawing unwanted attention."

"We'll deal with that if it happens," Steve acknowledged. "Until then stay sharp. If you and Nadine are right, he should be starting to move."

"If we're right?" Nadine cut in with a raised brow, "I think I should be hurt that you doubt us." The sardonic quip earned her a brief and faintly exasperated look from the Captain. She smiled at the trace of amusement in his eyes that he wasn't quite able to hide. But not one to be distracted for long given the task at hand, Steve turned back to glance down toward the café where Nat and Wanda sat before resuming his observation of the street.

"Alright, what do you see?" It was clear the Captain's question was aimed at their youngest member. Nadine's lip quirked. Trust him to take advantage of the opportunity for a teachable moment even if it wasn't necessarily an overt one. Nadine eyed Steve as he turned back to the window. She very much approved. For all that he claimed he was just a soldier, Steve was a pretty good instructor. And it showed in the almost off-handed yet methodical way he lead Wanda into the environment assessment.

"Standard beat cops," Wanda's voice replied through their earpieces as she ran through the assessment as she'd been taught. "Small station. Quiet street. It's a good target." Over by the window Steve nodded even as he prompted Wanda further about cameras and escape routes.

The station was a good target for all the reasons Wanda had observed and more; the biggest being that, for all that it was a small station, it was also the closest one to the Institute for Infectious Diseases. That fact meant that it was likely well stocked with arsenal for a quick defence of the Institute if the occasion arose and quite possibly an off-site base for the Institute's undoubted extra security. It was why the Team had zeroed in on this particular precinct as Crossbones' most likely target rather than the other dozen potential stations scattered around the city.

Lots of quality weapons for Crossbones to snatch up, just as had been the case in every other police station robbery he'd been a part of in the last few months.

Not that Nadine didn't have the two others they'd pegged as the next most likely targets under surveillance just in case.

Didn't hurt to be prepared. Even if they were pretty certain they were right. She highlighted the street next to the hotel on the laptop on her right, her practiced eye zeroing in on the 'cute' red Range Rover Steve was directing Wanda's attention to.

Yeah, they were definitely in the right place.

Even as the thought ran through her head, Natasha was pointing out to Wanda what had drawn Steve's attention to the vehicle as though she was reciting Nadine's own thoughts…with a dash of her own commentary to go with the assessment, of course: "It's also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us." Nadine exchanged a wry look with Steve at Natasha's dry response.

Judging by her tone as she countered Natasha's comments, Wanda was less amused. "You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?"

"Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature," Natasha said back almost dismissively without missing a beat.

"Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?" Nadine was hard-pressed not to snigger as Sam made his own contribution to the banter. Especially when she noted the way Steve's jaw tensed in a way that made her think he was withholding the urge to roll his eyes at his team's off-topic teasing.

"Not to my face." Nat countered, "Why? Did you hear something?" Nadine nearly groaned at her little sister's ironic quip.

"There's always something,  _lisichka_ ," Nadine couldn't help but bait, "question is, do you want to hear it?" She smiled at the piqued expression she spied on her sister's face as Natasha spared a glance at the CCTV camera in the corner of the café she knew Nadine had tapped into.

"Eyes on target, folks," Steve broke in then, pulling their focus back on task, sparing Nadine an exasperated look of her own. She just grinned, sparing him a light shrug. "This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months," he reminded them, "I don't want to lose him." Not that any one of them needed reminding.

"If he sees us coming that won't be a problem. He kind of hates us," Falcon piped up. Nadine managed to stifle her chuckle at Sam's dry comment, but she wasn't quite able to keep her lip from curling. Something Steve didn't miss if the wry tug at the corner of his own lip as his ocean-blue gaze met hers was any indication. But it was gone in a flash, his focused 'Captain' persona once again firmly in command. Setting aside her own wry grin, she turned her attention back to her surveillance. Only to notice something odd in the very camera Natasha had glanced toward a moment before.

"Steve?" The Captain turned at her soft call, retreating from the window to glance over her shoulder. She only had to point to the screen and he saw exactly what had stood out to her. At once he was peering out the windows lining the adjacent wall of the room as the ones looking over the police station, zeroing in what they had both seen on the screen out on the street immediately. His already stoic features grew guarded and contemplative as his hand inadvertently rose to his earpiece. Absently Nadine mused that she and Nat really needed to work on breaking him of that habit.

"Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it." And once again, they were all back in business mode, Sam immediately deploying his little 'Redwing' drone, as he had dubbed the thing, and Nadine was initializing the link between her own tech and the device. Her heart sunk as Sam's readings came back to her even as Sam was relaying them back to the Team. Nadine was already pulling up more cameras and the street layout, factoring in the truck's heading. It felt like a lead weight had dropped into her stomach as she realized the direction the truck was heading.

"That truck's loaded for max weight," the former paratrooper was saying even as Nadine leapt to her feet, laptop in hand as she crossed the room to Steve's side. Realization flashed grim and hard in his eyes as he looked up from the screen to Nadine as Sam finished: "and the driver's armed." Nadine's own expression was equally grave.

"It's a battering ram," they both heard Natasha murmur, echoing both Nadine's thoughts and Steve's if what she believed she saw in his eyes was right.

They were wrong about the target.

And Steve was moving even before Natasha had finished speaking, absently brushing a hand against Nadine's shoulder in silent thanks as he pushed past her.

"Go now," he ordered, breaking into a light run as he crossed the room and barrelled out the door.

"What?" Wanda blurted in confusion, a trace of panic threading her voice at the urgency clear in Steve's tone. Over the feed, Nadine could see Natasha urging Wanda to move as she too jumped to her feet.

"He's not hitting the police," Steve clarified grimly, his voice echoing faintly, indicating he'd already reached the stairwell. Nadine's fingers flew over her keyboard.

"He's going after the Institute," Nadine added, "and I've got two yellow box trucks converging on the dump truck." Only to nearly swear as she pulled her eye in the sky back, catching sight of two AFVs slipping around the back of the compound. "And their back-up's pulling in; three blocks and closing on the rear of the Institute; two heavily armored trucks. That's gotta to be their getaway," she relayed, her voice clipped. It took a great deal of self-control to keep her seat, the urge to jump into action herself suddenly itching beneath her skin.

"Copy," came Natasha's voice, "On my way."

"We're almost there," Steve replied, "Ryker? Sit rep." Forcing herself to refocus, she turned her attention back to the front of the institute.

Just in time to see the garbage truck barrelling into on the barrier with a spectacular crash.

In moments all hell had broken loose at the Institute for Infectious Diseases, Rumlow and his men smashing through the gates to breach and secure the institute like a well-oiled machine even as Nadine apprised the Team of what she was seeing. Not moments later, Steve, Sam and Wanda had reached the building themselves.

There was no room for hesitation and no time for it. Everything was moving too quickly. No sooner was Steve dropping into the courtyard or Sam descending on the rooftop than Rumlow's men were engaging them. Assessments and counts rang through the earpieces, Sam and Steve's observations from the ground on Rumlow's crew trading off with Nadine's from what she was seeing thanks to Stark's orbital tech.

Mercifully, they made short work of each mercenary they encountered—especially once Wanda propelled herself into the fray—Crossbones' men proving little challenge to their own team as they put their training the last few months to good use. Not that a few men with guns—level of training nonwithstanding—would have been much of a match for Captain America on his own, much less when Falcon and Scarlet Witch were backing him up with Black Widow not far behind getting into position to cut off their escape.

Even the gas Rumlow's men had used to neutralize the personnel within the building proved to be little more than an inconvenience; it didn't have much of an effect on Steve thanks to his Enhanced physiology and Wanda was quickly using her own powers to clear it out once she'd catapulted the Captain up to the floor where Rumlow had been directing his attack.

His successful attack.

"Rumlow has a biological weapon." Nadine's jaw clenched as Steve relayed that particular update. "Nadine, eyes on Rumlow?" Nadine grit her teeth to prevent the less than savoury curse on her tongue from escaping, instead channelling her aggravation to quickly pulling up what surveillance she could of the building's exteriors. It wasn't much given the nature of the institute, but there was enough.

"Got'im," she passed on as soon as she caught sight of their target and his flanking men descending toward the armoured vehicles that had pulled up to the back of the building. "He's coming out the back, heading for the AFVs. Natasha? What's your position?"

"I'm on it." And as soon as Nat's voice sounded through Nadine's earpiece, Natasha was flying into action, the motorcycle she had roared in on skidding across the pavement and into the frame of the camera Nadine was watching to take out the first of Rumlow's men.

The itch returned as Nadine watched her sister take out one mercenary after another. There was no doubting Natasha was handling the situation just fine on her own—no question the redhead was one of the best hand-to-hand combat specialists in the world—but that didn't stop Nadine from feeling all but compelled to back her up.

Especially when Crossbones himself pitched her headfirst into one of the AFVs followed in short order by a live grenade. Nadine's heart was suddenly in her throat, strangling her. She couldn't move, couldn't react. She couldn't even call for one of the others, knowing that not one of them was close enough to help, not even Steve who had just called out that he had reached the back of the building as he surged out onto the landing.

And then her sister was bursting from the back of the AFV just as the grenade detonated, shielding herself with one of Crossbones' men. Nadine choked in a breath, forcing back the well of terror that had been swelling in her chest as her sister took a moment to regain her breath to refocus on the mission.

Just in time to see Rumlow taking aim at Steve with the grenade launcher fixed to the top of the second AFV. Just as with Natasha, she couldn't even call out a warning in time. Even as her mouth opened, Rumlow was firing, the blast propelling Steve back into the building.

"Sam, Wanda," she snapped, even as Rumlow fired again and again, herding Steve back. But even as she called for the other two members of their Team, a final shot from Rumlow had all but blasted Steve out of the building and down to the pavement below. Nadine choked in pained sympathy as he crashed first on the roof then the edge of the truck below on the way down.

"Steve, are you okay," she bit out, not caring how suddenly desperate she suspected she sounded. A faint groan sounded in her ear as he pulled himself up.

"I'm in one piece," he answered, winded. "Rumlow?" Her eyes snapped back to her screens, physically shaking her head with irritation that she'd allowed herself to get so distracted so easily.

"North," was all she said, fingers already flying as she set to determining where he might be headed. "They're heading back my way, toward the edge of the city." She barely even heard Steve directing Sam after them.

"Already on it," the former paratrooper replied even as Nadine's fingers stilled. Not only were they driving straight into a crowded market, but there was an airstrip in the general direction the AFV was headed. In a flash, Nadine was pulling up precisely what she feared she would find.

"There's a plane ready at the airstrip ten minutes out," she informed them all grimly. "And it looks like they're planning on going straight through the market to get to it."

"Get to the roof, Nadine," Steve said then, grim and breathless. He didn't need to say another word. Nadine was already on her feet, her rifle in hand.

It was time for The Ghost to come out to play.


	89. Chapter 14

**Lagos, Nigeria**

**Spring 2016**

The instant she burst onto the roof of the hotel, Nadine was spinning, orienting herself in the direction of the market and forcing her pulse to calm after hurtling up the stairs from the room serving as their home base below.

Not only was the hotel they had set up their base in chosen because it was conveniently situated across the street from their originally presumed target, but they had also settled on it for another reason. It was one of the tallest buildings in the immediate area. And it had the best sightlines.

Perfect for Nadine's current task.

As she'd hurtled up the stairs, she was half listening in on the rest of the Team's chatter, taking note of Sam's warning that Rumlow's remaining men had split up and Steve's that they were looking to disappear into the crowd. She only faltered for a heartbeat at the sound of Rumlow engaging the Captain and when Sam relayed with a trace of alarm that the two mercenaries he'd been chasing were decoys.

The rest of her attention was focused wholly on the task ahead of her specifically; in a last minute check of her immaculately prepped rifle and a mental orientation of her position and her assignment as she burst out onto the roof.

She didn't even do more than spare a relieved breath as Natasha confirmed that she'd secured the payload.

Though, as she settled herself at the north face of the building, her rifle securely braced on the ledge as she positioned herself, she couldn't help but let her lip quirk in distant amusement as Sam teased her sister.

"I'm not thanking that thing," Natasha's voice sounded, rather unimpressed in her ear, as Nadine began to scan the market through her sight, searching…

"His name is Redwing," Sam was correcting, his amusement obvious at what Nadine could only imagine the nearly affronted expression her sister had to be wearing based on her tone looked like. Nadine let the relieved banter of the two teammates help relax her, knowing she needed to dispel the anxious tension flooding her body as each heartbeat passed without finding her target. She couldn't spoil her shot.

She might only get the one.

And she was running out of time. Beneath Sam and Nat's banter, she could hear each hit that landed between the Captain and his assailant.

"I'm still not thanking it," Natasha countered dubiously even as Sam laughed.

"He's cute," the former paratrooper all but cooed in reply. "Go ahead, pet him." And Nadine nearly groaned, huffing out a gusting breath instead.

"Flirt later, guys," Nadine cut in dryly, earning an indignant huff from her sister and a sound suspiciously like a suppressed chuckle from Sam, "I'm trying to—" and the words died on her lips, a smile breaking out instead. "Found you," she murmured.

There, directly between her crosshairs, was Steve and Crossbones.

Immediately, her smile died to be replaced by a grimace of concentration. She couldn't get a clean shot. Not only did they both keep ducking out of her line of sight, but they were moving too quickly, their fight much too involved for her to risk firing. Not unless she wanted to hit Steve. And given the rounds she was packing in preparation for the body armour they had been right to assume Crossbones would be wearing?

Enhanced or not, she could kill him.

That was not a risk she was willing to take. So she would bide her time, waiting for the perfect shot.

Because one always came. One just needed to be able to recognize it. And Nadine? There was a reason she was the best. She always recognized it.

She forced her breathing to slow, her heartbeat slowing with it as she willed her frame to loosen. Instinctively she paid attention to the breeze brushing through her hair and the similar faint movement of the flaps edging the umbrellas around where her target fought her friend. She was dimly aware of the movement of fleeing civilians around them, scrambling away from the brutal fight. But her focus was centred almost wholly on the two men fighting in the distance, narrowing on the scene she watched through her scope.

She was so intent that she didn't even react in relief beyond a lengthened blink when Steve sent Rumlow tumbling into the dust, the sense falling over her that the fight was over. But she didn't ease up, her crosshairs settling on Rumlow's head, ready to take the shot should he try something. It was undoubtedly over. Rumlow had nowhere else to go. So there was no point in taking him out now, she reminded herself; they wanted to take him alive.

But she still didn't remove her finger from where she'd laid it across the trigger.

Something didn't feel right, a faint sense that there was something off weighing against her chest. Still, she didn't take the shot, even as a faint, urgent whisper in the back of her head told her to.

As Steve approached Rumlow, the former HYDRA mercenary didn't even try to regain his feet. He just pulled himself up onto his knees, pushing his helmet from his head. The unsettled feeling deep in her chest deepened, and she frowned.

And waited for Steve to reach him. Nadine could almost feel Steve's hesitation when the Captain caught sight of Rumlow's face. Again, the urge to take the shot flared and she fought it back. No good would come from taking him out now, not when Rumlow had as good as surrendered; the optics on it would be horrific, a small part of her recognized. And given some of the scrutiny that had been following the Avengers after Sokovia? She couldn't just shoot him as he sat on his knees in front of Steve. No matter how loudly part of her was insisting she should. There were too many eyes. Too many that would condemn Steve for her shot.

"I think I look pretty good, all things considered," she distantly heard Rumlow say, the mic in Steve's earpiece only barely picking up his voice. Steve brushed off Rumlow's attempt to goad him, the consummate soldier.

"Who's your buyer?" But it was like Rumlow didn't even hear the question, peering up at the Captain, shifting minutely against Steve's firm hold on his breastplate. Nadine's eyes narrowed, her unease sinking to churn uncomfortably in her gut.

"You know, he knew you." Nadine froze as Rumlow spoke, her mouth going dry as her hand spasmed, nearly tightening fatally on the trigger. "Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky," Rumlow said scathingly. Nadine's breath caught, her focus flicking from Rumlow to Steve.

Steve stiffened, his shoulders tightening with tension as he pulled Rumlow closer. "What did you say?" There was no mistaking the hollow anger in the Captain's voice. Rumlow's soft, breathless laugh reached Nadine through the earpiece.

"When my guys went to pick up the girl," Crossbones continued, a thread of triumph in his voice, "I didn't know she was his daughter." Nadine's chest tightened and she could feel herself beginning to go cold. She could see Steve's jaw clench, the furious tension visible in every line of his body.

"They were your men?" he demanded lowly, "You were working with Strucker?" But he might not have even heard Steve's questions for all that Rumlow paid them any attention. His heavily scarred face twisted into a sneer. One that reminded Nadine unsettlingly of Katerina's all those months ago…

"Does Barnes even know about her?" the mercenary goaded, knowing full well he was digging deeper beneath Steve's skin. "The girl?" Cold rage simmered beneath Nadine's skin, acutely aware of the trigger that lay beneath her steady finger. How tempting it was…

"How do you know about her," Steve pressed softly, his fury clear…as was a thread of alarm. Rumlow barked out a laugh and Nadine felt her lips twist into a silent snarl.

"The same way Strucker did: I was told. Thanks to her, I had a good thing with him, you know." And then Rumlow's sneer twisted into a dark scowl. "Then that bitch had to go and kill Kat. She's going to pay for that." Nadine nearly started, deductions based on what she saw in the mercenary's features and body language, what she heard in the wounded rage punctuating his words suddenly assailing her.

Yet she felt no remorse. Not after what he and Katerina were responsible for. Not after the pain they had led her daughter to. Steve's fury wavered, the Captain growing wary even as his angry frown deepened.

"What do you mean?" Once more, Rumlow ignored Steve's question.

"Is she here?" he asked almost conversationally despite the near manic light that had appeared in his eyes. "Word is The Ghost hangs around with you now. Is she listening?" He chuckled darkly as Steve tensed further. Nadine's jaw clenched as dread clamped tight around her chest. Her finger twitched once more, her instincts hissing anxiously for her to take the shot. "She's going to lose you just as I lost Kat," he continued, "and it's going to be all her fault…just like what they did to Bucky after she bailed." Nadine's stomach twisted, her insides suddenly feeling like they were coated in ice as Rumlow spat out Barnes' name. Judging by the look suddenly flickering across Steve's face as her gaze darted briefly to him, he was just as unsettled.

Rumlow nodded, his eyes glinting cruelly as his lip twisted into a mocking grin of sympathy. Cold rage flared once again in Nadine's chest. On Rumlow's breastplate, she could see Steve's knuckles whiten, the metal beginning to warp beneath the strength of his grip.

"Yeah," the mercenary sneered, "kinda like what they did to him after he met up with you on the freeway." Nadine couldn't breathe, forcibly pushing back the malicious imaginings of what Barnes had likely endured, struggling to keep her focus. Steve's profile was nearly slack with horror, transfixed by Rumlow. "He remembered you, you know." Rumlow said cruelly, "I was there. He got all weepy about it. 'Til they put his brain back in a blender." Nadine flinched even as Steve tensed, restraining a similar reaction. "He wanted you to know something. He said to me, 'Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.'" An ominous chill ran up Nadine's spine as Rumlow's face twisted grotesquely with grim triumph. "And you're coming with me." Nadine's mind went utterly blank and her finger squeezed tight over the trigger.

And everything happened at once.

Even as her shot reported in deep, reverberating echoes against the sides of the buildings around them, Rumlow's wrist twisted and Steve was leaping back in horror. As she watched her bullet hit home, Rumlow's head disappearing in a spray of crimson, her scope was filled with a blinding flash as the mercenary's vest detonated.

And it felt like her heart stopped. Nadine jerked back, her lids slamming shut as she was momentarily blinded from the intensity of the blast even as it crashed in on her what had just happened. At once her eye was all but slamming back tight to her scope, desperate to see—

All the air that was left in her chest was crushed free in an overwhelming wave of relief and dread. The force of the explosion strained and roiled against a barely visible wash of scarlet. In a blink, Nadine was leaning to the side, the view through her scope shifting until she found Wanda fighting to contain the blast a few meters away from a Steve, her slight frame rigid from the physical effort of restraining the surging flames.

Nadine could barely even think as, with a lifting motion obscured by the bright scarlet nimbus in her hands, Wanda sent the Rumlow rocketing skyward, the blonde assassin leaning back from her scope to watch in awe as her keen eye tracked the distant fireball as it rose higher and higher.

Only to jerk in horror as Wanda's hold broke and the explosion was unleashed in a violent billow of fire and black smoke.

Shattering the windows of the building next to it and engulfing the closest floors in a blazing wash of flame.

Five floors. The whole corner of the building closest to the market utterly devastated. Nadine looked toward the market and, before she could even think to do it, she was turning and descending from the roof, Steve's distant and equally horrified voice once more calling out instructions. Instructions to do what they could to help. Nadine barely heard, intent as she was to get down there. To do…something. She wasn't even sure what. She was too shaken. Shaken by what Rumlow had done, by what had happened when Wanda tried to minimize the damage...by the things Rumlow had said…

…by the way she had hesitated…

Oh God, this was all her fault…if she hadn't hesitated…

She forced herself to keep moving, to keep breathing against the horror threatening to crush in on her. There were more important things to do than replay the moments leading up to the explosion in her head, to berate herself for failing the Team. That all had to wait.

So she pushed it aside, locking it away and reverting to a coolly clinical detachment as she had long ago been trained to do.

It almost worked, too.

In moments she was hitting the street, collecting the dark SUV the Team had acquired for the mission.

Minutes later, she was tucking the vehicle in behind the mercenaries' abandoned AFV and heading toward the heart of the market.

The whole area swarmed with activity, rescue crews darting this way and that. Panicked and horrified civilians milled and flew about, some fleeing, others trying to get closer for a better look, some even rushing forward to help as best they could.

The first of the Team she found was Wanda. The young Sokovian had fallen to her knees as she stared up at the ruined building, her eyes bright and distraught and horrified beyond any description Nadine could've come up with. She jumped as Nadine's hand brushed lightly against her shoulder.

"Come on,  _alyy_ ," she said firmly, nevertheless looking down to the younger woman in sympathy, "we need to clear out." At once Wanda's head was shaking, her eyes growing brighter yet as the first of her tears began to fall.

"I can't…" she said, her voice hoarse with emotion even as she let Nadine urge her to her feet, "…this is all my fault…" Biting back a heavy sigh, pushing her own urgently pressing distress back as she did so, Nadine took Wanda's face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eye.

"It isn't," Nadine said wearily, only barely keeping herself from snapping it out. But enough of an edge made it into her voice that Wanda's gaze darted to Nadine's in pained bewilderment followed closely by doubt. Nadine let out a slow exhale. It was her fault more than it was Wanda's, but there was no mistaking from the look in Wanda's eyes that insisting as much wasn't going to help right now. That had to wait. She stroked her thumb across Wanda's cheek, brushing away the tear that had fallen.

"Now is not the time," she said firmly instead. "Now? We need to get out of the way and let rescue do their jobs." She glanced off toward the building, where rescue workers where rushing in and out, fire personnel racing in as paramedics gathered up the injured as they were brought out to them. Not far away, Natasha stood watching Nadine and Wanda, her expression veiled and her normally bright eyes dulled by worry and wariness. Nadine met Wanda's eye again and nodded toward Natasha.

"Go with Nat," she instructed gently. "The truck's back at the market entry point." Wanda tensed, misery clouding her blue-green eyes.

"How can I—" she nearly sobbed, her face crumpling, "they're hurt because of me…" Nadine's chest cramped.

"We can't help right now," Nadine said firmly. "Even if we try to help shift the rubble, put out the flames… We wouldn't just get in the way,  _alyy_ , we'd be a distraction. We can't make the rescue crews' work harder than it already is. No matter how much we might feel the need to help." Wanda looked up and, after a long moment, her mouth set and a pained determination lit in her eyes. Mutely she nodded and ducked past Nadine.

Nadine met her sister's eye as Natasha laid a commiserating hand of her own on the Sokovian girl's shoulder as she walked by. Just as mutely as Wanda, Natasha nodded, agreement and approval flickering across her guarded features.

As the pair of younger women headed away from the destroyed building, Nadine watched with apprehension and remorse once more threatening to crush in on her chest. If only she had taken that damned shot…or noticed he was wearing a bomb vest…

She straightened then, steeling herself against the guilt. What was done was done. There was no going back, so what point was there in wallowing just now. She hadn't taken the shot in time and that was that. And she would have to live with it. Just as Wanda was going to have to learn to live with her role just as she had with what had happened in Sokovia.

Silently she cursed Rumlow. This was on him more than anyone else, she told herself as she looked up to the gaping hole a hundred feet above her head. Should she have taken her shot sooner? Even noticed his armour was hiding a bomb vest? Yes and probably. But at the end of the day, the true responsibility lay on Rumlow's shoulders.

Now it was just a matter of convincing herself of that.

God, things had been so much easier back when she hadn't let herself care…when none of it had been personal…

Inhaling deeply to stave off the dejected sigh that threatened deep in her chest, Nadine turned her attention back to the building, having yet to see the final member of their Team.

It was only another few moments before she picked out Steve amid the dust and smoke-clogged air. His jaw was tight and his expression veiled and grave as he let a pair of paramedics gingerly pull the second of two unconscious victims from his shoulders. She let out a low huff of relief. He seemed uninjured, but Nadine was well aware that not all injuries were physical.

He didn't even seem to notice her approach, his features guarded as he surveyed the efforts around him while pausing to rest for a short moment. He was covered in ash and grime, his helmet abandoned and his shield secured on his back, very clearly having already been inside the building to help with the rescue even if she hadn't seen him carrying the two injured civilians outside.

"Cap?" she called, half expecting him to start. But he didn't. He didn't even twitch in her direction. He just started talking, his voice faintly hoarse with strain and barely restrained guilt of his own.

"Ryker, I need you to round up the rest of the team. We need—"

"Rogers—" He wouldn't look at her, almost as if he hadn't heard her. But she knew he had. He'd reacted to the sound of her voice, his frame tensing further. Unease tightened in her chest. Did he blame her for not taking the shot? Was that why he wouldn't look at her? She pushed the sudden fear away—not important right now. He continued on as though she hadn't spoken.

"—to clear out before we distract from the rescue effort. And we need to get the MSRF on the ground ASAP—"

"Steve!" It was only then that he looked at her. She nearly flinched at his grim, carefully controlled expression. "Are  _you_  okay?"

"I'm fine," he said reflexively. She eyed him sceptically. Maybe physically…

"Are you?" she asked softly. He maintained the assured look for a heartbeat more before faltering, his broad shoulders sagging. Around the chaos of the rescue effort, the press was starting to congregate, cellphones and network cameras alike documenting the devastation. But she paid them little mind, her focus almost wholly on Steve. She recognized the emotions she could see swirling in his eyes intimately.

It was exactly the way she felt in that moment.

Helpless, disheartened, horrified, unsettled…guilty…responsible…

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. Nadine laid a comforting hand on his bicep. But she didn't have anything to say that would help.

Rumlow had shaken her too.

After a moment he looked up, meeting her gaze. She didn't even try to hide the similar emotions she was struggling against; the guilt, the regret, the self-reproach, the unease… And solemn understanding lit in the ocean-blue depths. He saw precisely what he felt mirrored in her eyes even if her face was still carefully blank. Sighing heavily, his eyes slid closed and he was leaning minutely into the hand she was resting on his arm.

And she was suddenly rather angry that Rumlow was dead.

In that moment she very much wished she could kill the disfigured bastard again.


	90. Chapter 15

**Bucharest, Romania**

**Spring 2016**

He was honestly having a tough time keeping his frustration and his disappointment at bay. Which was saying something, really. He was quite used to living with both by this point. Though, admittedly, this was of a different vein than usual.

Usually, it was a matter of him fighting back the familiar feelings of shame and self-reproach and guilt over the horrific things he'd done, frustration at being unable to keep his fluid mind in line and disappointment that he was no further to reaching…what? He honestly didn't know what it was he was ultimately working toward. Oh sure, he had his goals—rebuild his mind, figure out what they'd done to him, track down and…deal with those responsible…to take whatever steps necessary to protect those precious few people he cared for most in his wretched existence—but beyond those?

He knew he would never again be able to have any semblance of a normal life. Not the kind he craved…not like he'd had for however short a time those few astonishing, peaceful months in DC…

…he needed to stop thinking about DC…about everything in DC, really; the Freeway, the Helicarriers, the skinny townhouse and its precious occupant… The churning, pervasive guilt? The aching, crushing feelings of longing? It was not helping him save to taunt him with what he had done and what he could no longer have, threatening his hard won and fragile grasp over his own mind. He knew that. But he couldn't help it. The memories that came after the Helicarriers fell and he'd slipped free from HYDRA's grasp? They were the only comfort he had in his rather cold, grey, tormented existence no matter the regret and remorse still shadowed the memories.

Yet, for all that, they still did not make anything any easier…they just brought along a different kind of pain.

A manageable one…if barely.

No, all he had was the dreary existence he had now and his grim purpose.

And if he was being truly honest with himself? He rather doubted he would have any choice how he would live after…if he even lived long enough to wonder what came after.

But just now, they were providing very little comfort in the face of the potent well of bitter disappointment and the irritable itch of his frustration that currently plagued him. Even the relatively recent revelation that had come on his return from one of his tasks that Bucharest was beginning to almost,  _almost_ , feel like 'home' in its familiarity did little to ease the strain on his mind from what felt like a failure.

His mission was not going nearly so well as he had hoped, and his most recent undertaking in pursuit of his larger objective had proven nothing short of a disappointment. Yet another of a growing number of them, as he was slowly being forced to admit.

His goal to track down who and what had made him what he was, to do what he could given his circumstances to atone and amend for what he could—the only way he knew how, of course—and find a measure of closure for what had been done to him and for what he had done, was hitting block after block. Walls and setbacks and dead-ends. As was his mission to rediscover and rebuild not just his past but his own mind. Sure, his memories were beginning to sort themselves back into some semblance of order and there were times, fleeting and brief though they were, where he felt almost  _human_ again. But more often than not he just felt…lost. Adrift. Broken.

And after this most recent extension of his larger mission? Harsh, grasping, hungry claws of anger and resentment and despair threatened to undo all the progress he'd made, ripping and tearing at him, trying to drag him back down into the nightmarish mire of that had trapped him for so long within his own fractured mind. He had little enough hope as it was, and with each successive failure and setback, a little more of it was eroding away, feeling like it was trying to take the shreds of the sanity he had regained and the fragments of who he was that he was trying to rebuild himself with along with it.

The old HYDRA base in the Austrian Alps was supposed to be completely off-record. That was something he remembered clearly. It had taken time and delving into some of the most painful and fractured memories he possessed—not to mention falling back on a few of the more reprehensible skills he had learned as the Winter Soldier to extract the information he'd needed—but he had eventually come to determine that it was likely the place he'd first operated out of. And once he'd been moved to Siberia sometime in the sixties, he was fairly certain it had been converted to a secure records depository.

One that, officially speaking, didn't exist either…just as he once hadn't existed. A facility where he had been so certain the answers he'd craved had been held.

Well, there was no telling now.

It had been completely empty. Gutted.

There had been nothing left. Nothing that could help him on his mission to reclaim his past or who he'd been. Nothing that could help him find those responsible he hadn't managed to eliminate yet. Nothing that could help him safeguard the world and those he cared about against what he was.

Just…nothing.

Nothing save the return of a handful of disjointed, tormenting splinters of memory that did little but serve to remind him how he'd been torn apart and pieced back together into a twisted, corrupted version of the man he'd used to be. Memories from his earliest days as the Winter Soldier, when his programming had still been new and had yet to wholly take hold. Nightmarish memories where he'd still had fleeting, torturous moments of clarity, when who he'd been had clawed its way to the surface only to howl with revulsion and horror and misery at the monster they'd made him into. Brief, flickering moments when he'd been horrifically aware of what was happening to him.

Memories from when a small, determined part of him had still been fighting tooth and nail to retain even a fragment of who he'd been, futile as it had been to even try.

There had been nothing left at the Austria Base for him. Nothing usable. Not even his dog tags. Those he remembered last seeing there, certain he dimly remembered them being pulled from his neck and filed away.

He'd hoped…that having something  _tangible_ …

It had been a foolish hope, like hoping that there would be something left at an obviously defunct base.

Only the equipment and fixtures too large to be moved had remained. Fixtures, old desks and empty cabinets.

If there had ever even been anything there for him to find once he'd been moved to Siberia, it was long gone. Destroyed by HYDRA decades before or taken to be secured somewhere else lest they risk any of it falling into the wrong hands.

Either way, someone had torn the base apart. Likely whoever had taken everything. Probably, if he was any judge—debatable, of course—after what had happened in DC, when the Winter Soldier had been revealed to the world and the Helicarriers had fallen from the sky. Because, for all that there was no sign of life to be had at the abandoned base, it had not been abandoned all that long. Detritus that belonged to the current decade lingered in corners and the dust didn't lay quite thick enough over everything to have been gathering for decades or even a whole year.

Not that it really mattered one way or another.

He forced himself to relax as a wave of bitterness and resentment threatened.

And not for the first time, he wondered if he should, perhaps,  _go_  to Steve. To seek him out. To stop running.

To let Steve help him.

But he was at once violently shoving the very idea aside as he had done a hundred, a thousand times before. Nearly every time he was a lucid as he was today, really.

Not that that happened all that often, either.

No. He couldn't do that anymore than he could return to DC. Steve didn't deserve that. Steve didn't deserve to shoulder his problems, his guilt. Really, Steve shouldn't be trying to find him at all. Not after everything he'd done. Not after everything he'd done to Steve. Once more the ghostly image of Steve's face on the Helicarrier wavered to the front of his mind's eye, haunting him, taunting him, the ring of a gunshot echoing in his ears at the memory of Steve crumpling as the bullet hit its mark…

Besides, it was unlikely Steve would be able to do anything to help him anyway.

He would only be a liability. A danger.

No, as much as the lost, hopeless little part of him  _wanted_  Steve to find and help him, a much larger, louder, more rational part insisted it was a bad idea. A dangerous idea. He was simply too dangerous.

Staying off the grid and alone and out of everyone's reach was the best option for everyone.

At least until he could be certain that the Winter Soldier could never be activated again…and for that?

He'd needed what had hoped to find within the archives of the base in Austria to even start trying to find a way. He'd needed the documents hidden away there that were no doubt out of his reach, now; his asset intake file and the Red Book; one gone and the path to the other lost to him.

And with it? Any hope that he might, one day, be able to reclaim himself for good.

Clenching his jaw, he forced in breath after long, calming breath, willing his metal hand to relax, the damned limb having groaned faintly as his desperate frustration had swelled, the gleaming fingers fisting tight within their worn leather glove.

And now? He had no idea what to do next. His next moves had depended utterly on finding his file and the Red Book. And as he'd destroyed the memory modification machine hidden away in the DC bank he'd been operating out of in a mindless fit of rage and agony after the Helicarrier? Without it and its accompanying computer systems for activating and controlling his programming? The only source he could think of that remained to him to even get a grasp on what had been done to tear his mind apart was that thrice-damned Red Book. And he had a sickening feeling that he had only one real option left to him. The only place he could conceive of where either the book or his files could be found if either still existed at all.

Siberia.

It was the one place he was absolutely dead set against returning to unless he was faced with no other choice…unless he was truly desperate.

And he feared that day was finally upon him.

He shoved that thought firmly away as well. No, he couldn't admit to himself that he was quite that desperate just yet. Not without considering all his options. Not that there were many. As he'd already discounted, returning to DC or seeking out Steve were very much not options he could even afford to dream about. Beyond that, what other options were there besides going to Siberia?

He needed to regroup, and his tiny apartment here in Bucharest was as good a place as any to do just that. Unknown and utterly off the grid, the defunct HYDRA safehouse obviously hadn't been disturbed in years when he'd first darkened its narrow doorway. Maybe even decades. And in the couple months since he'd arrived in Bucharest, the gungy, disintegrating little apartment had become as close to 'home' as he was ever likely to find again. There was a small comfort to be taken in that.

Not to mention that, sometimes the easiest way to stay hidden while on the run was to stay put. Find somewhere to dig in and lay low while those looking looked right past. Because he knew there were people out there looking for him. People other than Steve. So he'd holed up here in Romania, laying false trails away from his new 'home' throughout Europe even as he'd carried out his mission as best as he was able, as he'd scoured the continent trying to piece together who'd he'd once been and eliminating those responsible for tearing him apart and using him as the horrific weapon he'd been made into.

Maybe he should try again to track down Karpov…if anyone knew about the fate of the Red Book…he might have better luck if he focused on nothing else…

He sighed, adjusting the meagre armful of cans he was waiting in line to purchase as one threatened to slip free.

Only to freeze as his constantly alert senses latched onto the screen above the main counter of the shop he was in.

Everywhere he went the last couple days, just about every screen he'd passed had been plastered with coverage in some degree of some sort of attack or incident in Lagos, Nigeria. Something the Avengers had been involved in. Something Steve had been involved in.

For that reason alone he'd be careful to avoid paying too much attention. Thinking about Steve was hard enough, what with his oldest friend's battered face already haunting his mind's eye, but seeing him? It only made it worse. It left an aching hole in his gut that nearly threatened to overshadow the one already in constant residence in his chest; each a hole the size of Siberia, he thought with a bleak, dark twist of humour.

But that was nothing compared to the feelings of confusion and dismay surging through him as he looked up to the screen now.

Oh, there was still the inescapable weight on his chest from guilt and remorse and the remembered horror twisting his gut that always came with seeing Steve again, even if it was only a video of him. That he was coming to terms with. That he was learning to bear. No, it was whom Steve was with had shaken him.

It was a woman. A painfully familiar woman. A woman he knew he should know…a nearly physical pain crushed in on him, regret and self-loathing constricting around his chest as though everything in him but his mind knew who she was. The stress of it was nearly enough that his tenuous hold on his fluid mind and current state of lucidity nearly broke. He could feel the grasp holding his memories in place—his hold on who he even was—slipping…

Then it hit him with the force of a bullet.

And he knew.

He nearly dropped his armload of cans as he was bombarded with recognition, images and sensations and feelings surging forward with all the force of a tidal wave, threatening to drown him.

It was impossible.

She couldn't be with Steve. She couldn't even be still alive, could she? Dimly he remembered letting her disappear into the night all those years before, battling through his programming to do so. He also remembered the consequences; the brutal punishment and the memory modifications that followed for disobeying his order to dispatch anyone caught trying to leave the facility that night. And he remembered ultimately being forced back to sleep when none of it had been enough; he'd hesitated when they'd tested his recognition of her even after everything they'd put him through to 'correct' his resistance to his programming.

A hard reset they'd called it.

No, they would've never let her get away. They would've hunted her down relentlessly and without mercy for running. His mind might have been a shattered, muddled mess back then that he was still struggling to make sense of now, but that he was absolutely sure of. He knew, just like he knew she'd had no hope of escaping them forever, that, had he not been the one to let her slip away and had the memory modifications taken hold properly, it would've likely been him they sent after her.

His mind had to be playing tricks on him, seeing her face—one of the most prominent of many that haunted him like Steve or the man in the car…the one with he serum; those that were personal in a way all the other faces weren't—imposed on someone else's. Some other woman who just happened to vaguely resemble her. Some other woman with a lithe, dancer's figure beneath her charcoal leather jacket and pale blonde hair.

It wouldn't be the first time.

More than once he'd found himself recoiling in horror as one of the hundreds of faces that haunted him seemed to appear out of a crowd, features grim and eyes blank and accusing, only to vanish as he blinked.

His eyes slammed shut, his chin dropping nearly to his chest as his head shook, striving to banish her face from his mind's eye. She had every right to haunt him, but he couldn't handle seeing her today too. Not on top of everything else. He was already walking a fine line, only barely maintaining his grip over his damaged mind and fluid memories.

A dry sob tore within his chest as he looked up.

She was still there.

She stood next to Steve amid the destruction of whatever had happened in Lagos, speaking quietly with him. Speaking seriously with him…her features carefully controlled, yet, there was concern there, in the way she looked at him and the way her hand reached out to graze against his arm when Steve looked to be avoiding her eye.

She looked nearly as he remembered, the years having been kind…too kind, even. No wonder it had been too easy to think she was a figment of his guilty conscience, a wraith of memory conjured by his fractured psyche to haunt him when she looked nearly as she did all those years ago. Even as overwhelmed by shock and remorse as memory of their history resurfaced to torment him—surprisingly coherent and brutally clear—he could recognize that. It was only as he looked closer, unable to look away, transfixed by seeing her alive and seeing her with Steve, that he was able to pick out the differences beyond the way her hair was done or the style of clothes she wore; a subtle maturity to her features that only the passage of time could produce and a depth of experience visible in her grey eyes that she hadn't had all those years before even after having experienced the kinds of horrors she'd known in that place. Though, some of the harshness he remembered in her then from that place had softened, undoubtedly with distance and time.

But still…it left him feeling uneasy. Could it really have been as long ago as he thought if she still looked so… But no, it had been. The woman he was looking at was very much a woman and not the girl he'd known so long ago, now. There was no denying that. Besides, he'd already settled for himself what felt like ages ago just how long it had been since those weeks training the girls in the Red Room.

It had taken a great deal of time, but he'd eventually placed how Black Widow had seemed familiar to him; not only because of a mission in Odessa years back, but because he remembered her as the other girl from that place. The little redheaded shadow that had helped take him down that single time he'd been beaten during his time there.

They had been close. He remembered that.

Just as he knew that, though time had similarly been kind to the redheaded operative, he knew it had indeed passed thanks to his encounters with her. She'd been a child when she'd encountered him in the Red Room. And she was now a woman grown, just as she had been in 2009, when she'd been the one protecting the scientist he'd been tasked to eliminate…and really, he should have eliminated her too, that day…he still wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't…though, looking up to the familiar, impossible blonde up on the television screen, he suddenly had a suspicion to that end itching at the back of his thoughts…that it came back to her…some kind of atonement for what he had done…for what he had put that poor young woman through all because his mind had been too scrambled to control his most basic impulses…what kind of monster was he…

He was jolted out of his anguished reverie by a dull, metallic thud.

One of his cans had fallen from the precarious stack cradled in the crook of his elbow.

He swallowed thickly, surreptitiously glancing around before slowly lowering himself down to retrieve the escaped can. And he honestly felt every inch like he was the hundred years old he technically was.

She was certainly someone he'd never expected to see again save when she haunted his dreams—and sometimes his waking hours—just as did so many other faces…faces of those he'd killed…of those he'd wronged…

And he saw her frequently…almost as frequently as he saw Steve's broken, swollen features and the anguish and horror he imagined his family would've felt had they ever learned what he'd become…and Iris…

He shook his head as he straightened, feeling like every joint should've creaked with how stiff and weary and utterly sick he suddenly felt.

Yes, she haunted him just as Steve's bloodied, sorrowful features from that day on the Helicarrier did…or how Iris' broken sobs echoed in his mind or how her bright, certain hazel eyes bored into him whenever he closed his own.

But with  _her_? He always saw her edging away from him afterward, panting and painfully conflicted…or the wide-eyed, bewildered look on her desperate features, tears beginning to spill over onto her pale cheeks as he let her go, not understanding what he was doing. He saw the cold, blank look on her face—gut-wrenchingly close to how he imagined he had looked when trapped by his programming…hard, emotionless, ruthless…as she was ordered to face him in training again and again, never hesitating despite knowing she could never beat him.

Save that one time, of course.

The corner of his lip tugged.

Yes, he supposed that, if anyone in that place would've been likely to make it out, it would've been her. There had been something…special about her. Some…spark that hadn't been doused by that place.

And now she was working with Steve and she looked…not happy, given the circumstances, of course, but like she…like she had found somewhere she fit in if her ease with Steve was any clue. That was good. He inhaled deeply as a tiny, warm feeling of relief flickered to life amid the crushing remorse.

Though he wasn't sure anything would've ever happened between them in another life, despite his programming he had come to care for her in a small way back then—still did in a strange, indefinable way, if he was being honest. Thrown together as they had been by the whims of those controlling them, something more had grown. There had been a connection there, something more than just the physical pull between them. It hadn't been love, no. Not by any means. He really had no idea what it was. Kinship perhaps? A mutual…not respect, but something in that vein. He couldn't really put a name to it beyond that something unexpected had been forged between them. Not fragmented as his mind was. Something deeper than simple attraction. A tenderness despite the raw passion they had escaped into in each other's company. A sympathy for each other and each other's need to…to escape.

All he knew for sure was that, the night he'd caught her running, he hadn't been able to bring himself to kill her, programming be damned.

And seeing her now? Alive and safe and working with his oldest friend…that she was  _friends_  with his best friend? Hopefully having found some measure of peace after everything that had happened all those years ago?

He would do it again in a heartbeat.


	91. Chapter 16

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Early Summer 2016**

Nadine sat, curled up in her chair, knees to her chest, chin propped on her crossed arms where they rested on her knees. Staring with sightless eyes at the screen in her private workroom devoted to her search for Barnes.

Over the last several month, she'd whittled her master compilation of abandoned and defunct HYDRA safehouses he might have gone to ground in—over 400 potential sites so far—down to a much more manageable list of just over two dozen likely options scattered across Europe. Sites in Russia, France, Ukraine, England, Romania, Germany, Belarus and more. There was even one in Austria, in one of the poorer sections of Vienna, Nadine recalled with a pang, not all that far, all things considered, from her Workshop. She had physically hurt when that one made it onto her short list.

...that he might have been so  _close_...

It was just a matter of investigating, now. Something she was eager to get started on, just as Steve, Nat and Sam were. Especially Steve. Nat and Sam had even checked off a couple sites already; one in Poland and one not far from Paris.

But she could just  _feel_  it. The end was in sight. One of these sites had to be where Barnes was laying low. And when they found it? Found him?

Then she would finally be able to let go of the last of her secrets. Never had she dreamed that she would be anticipating that day with a mixture of relief and apprehension instead of all out dread.

But that was on hold for the time being.

Which was probably a blessing, considering her mind was otherwise occupied, just now. And not with pleasant thoughts.

Not while listening with half an ear to the television on the background dissecting what had happened in Nigeria for the umpteenth time.

A little over a month had passed since the disastrous mission in Lagos and, mercifully, everyone was recovering about as well as could be expected. Even Wanda, Nadine had noticed in the weeks since with no small measure of relief.

Though, the renewed coverage the last day or so was not helping. Especially since, besides dredging up the whole episode again, it seemed to point to something big happening in response.

She couldn't help the sense that something was coming. What happened in Nigeria had been a tipping point, especially now that the elusive Wakandan nation and their eloquent King had taken up the cause.

"Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil," he was saying in the background as she listened, "not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them." Nadine's jaw tensed, the calmly spoken statement leaving her conflicted and irritable.

It apparently mattered very little that, for the most part, the Avengers had been cleaning up others' messes or staving off something much worse when they took the field. And considering the sheer scale of the most widely publicised of the clashes they had been involved in? Of course there was going to be collateral damage, no matter how hard the Team always worked to minimize civilian casualties as much as they could. It was a by-product—tragic as it was—of any violent conflict. It always had been. People got hurt. Property got damaged. It was a horrible reality but a reality just the same. And the world would be singing a different tune had the Avengers sat back and done nothing. Like if the World Security Council's plan to combat the Chitauri Invasion with a nuclear missile hadn't been thwarted by the Team...she couldn't imagine that would've gone over well...

Or maybe Nadine was just cynical.

The sad truth of the matter was that the world simply hadn't seen the lengths the Avengers had gone to and what they had done—were willing to do—to protect and defend the people of the world. All the world saw was the aftermath. The flattened buildings and shattered glass and videos of a rampaging Hulk. The clash over the Triskelion in DC was a perfect example; next to no one of the general public had even the slightest idea what had truly been at stake or even what had actually happened that day. Sure, the details of how S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised and that it was thanks to the efforts of Steve, Natasha, Sam and others that HYDRA and their Project Insight had been stopped—Natasha's statements during the Inquiry on Capitol Hill had ensured the whole story had come out—had been made public, but most of what was said had been lost on the general population. If they saw any of it to begin with. All they had seen were three Helicarriers falling from the sky and the word that Captain America had been fighting protect them.

Not to mention there were all the missions the world hadn't seen...

Oh sure, the people on the ground, who had been at the heart of the conflicts had seen what lengths the Avengers would go to to save even one more person, and some of those stories even made the news cycles after the fact. If asked, Nadine couldn't help but think that the people who had actually been in New York or in the heart of Nova Grad would be hard pressed to say the Avengers should've done more. Not having seen what they'd been up against. Not having been the ones the Avengers had been jumping in front of to save, fighting to get them to safety even as they fought back alien invasions and malicious robots.

But unfortunately the number of casualties and the damage and the dollar amounts from the destruction caused dominated the wider public's awareness, and voices in praise of the Avengers were simply drowned out.

The aftermath really was all the world saw.

And these days, that was all the jaded public cared about.

As far as the world was concerned, someone needed to be held 'accountable' for the fallout and the destruction and as, for the most part, the Avengers had been the only ones left standing in each instance? As those truly responsible for the devastation following each event the news was intent on dissecting were, for the most part, either dead and/or from other planets—a truly baffling thought to wrap one's head around, which likely contributed to the problem—it meant the Avengers were the ones left with the bill.

What was even more frustrating was that it was a bill the Avengers had so far been willing to pay. Each member bore the weight of every loss on their psyche, and on more than one occasion had stuck around to help in the fall-out. Christ, Nadine had been there with Steve, Wanda and Natasha in the aftermath of Lagos; Steve had even been helping evacuate people from the building before they'd pulled out to let the rescue personnel do their work unhindered. After Nova Grad, even shaken as she'd been by Nina's brush with death, she had seen the Avengers circling among the Sokovians on the Helicarrier, doing what they could to help the wounded and the grieving. She imagined the same had been done after New York. And all after having just fought for their lives, having barely spared a moment to rest or even take a breath. And yet they'd still tried to do what they could for the people who'd been caught in the cross-fire.

Not to mention that the foundation set up to help with the aftermath of their conflicts was always on the scene within hours to help with relief, recovery and rebuilding; everyone seemed to forget the MSRF was closely connected with the Avengers...it was named after Stark's mother, for heaven's sake!

But incidents like Hulk's rampage in Johannesburg and the incomplete footage and innocent deaths in Lagos and the statement shouldering the responsibility for Ultron were all overshadowing the good. Especially since, in the case of Ultron especially, the world was not seeing any follow up to hold the Avengers accountable for their mistakes. Not even a fine had been levelled against Stark or the Avengers for Ultron's creation even though the billionaire had come out and said it was their mistake in trying to make a world defense system that had led to the killer robot's existence.

All in all, global goodwill for the Avengers was running painfully thin, just now.

Especially for Wanda.

Nadine's heart clenched in dismay and anger as the news anchors once again turned their discussion to the Sokovian girl. Because she was just that. A  _girl_. And here these people were talking about her like she was a heartless weapon. As though she had gone into the Lagos mission with the intent of leaving destruction in her wake.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but still, Nadine couldn't wholly help herself. Surely anyone with a heart and a brain who'd seen even a glimpse of the raw footage from that day could see that, not only had Wanda prevented something far worse when she'd sent Rumlow's detonation surging skyward, but that she'd been absolutely devastated at the destruction that had followed. The very destruction she had tried so hard to prevent.

Okay, sure, from the clips that had been captured on cell cameras that day and distributed through TVs and computers around the world before the whole story had even come out, it was impossible to tell that the fireball had in fact been Rumlow. Or that Wanda had been containing, not creating the explosion—her powers didn't work that way, but most regular people wouldn't be able to understand that—but still. No one could doubt from Wanda's reaction as she'd lost her hold that she had very much not meant to hit that building.

God, Nadine could still see the look of absolute horror on the girl's face in her mind's eye.

Yet, because of what happened that day, these people were questioning Wanda's very eistence and even condemning her for getting involved! It was wrong! Wanda had risked her life for people like them. And this was the thanks she got?

And what made Nadine feel worse? Among the infuriating calls for the Avengers to be held accountable and even responsible for events they had  _minimized_  the damage of, were genuine concerns that she honestly had to admit she could see the rationale behind...and she hated herself for it. She hated that despite her irritation with the Wakandan King, his words did resonate with her on some level. It made her feel disloyal to the team.

On top of that, the whole situation had also left her horribly conflicted about Nina choosing to stay at MIT for the summer. Her daughter had chosen to take advantage of the courses offered over summer term not only to catch up with her contemporaries who'd started in the fall but also to leapfrog ahead in her courses at some of her professors' encouragement. It made Nadine inordinately proud of her little girl.

And relieved. But also not.

On the one hand, Nadine was glad that Nina wasn't directly involved of all this, that she was safely apart in Cambridge. But on the other? Part of her very much wished Nina were safely back at the Compound and away from all the animosity and even latent hostility going around out there toward the Avengers and Enhanced people in general. And not just to ease Nadine's worry for her little sun. For one thing, Wanda could certainly use her daughter's compassionate ear and level head just now. As could Pietro, who was one hastily spoken comment away from going on the warpath on his twin's behalf; he'd been all but banned from watching TV or even accessing the Internet because of all the Lagos coverage and debate over the Avengers for that reason.

Nadine inhaled deeply through her nose. They had been finally getting through to Wanda that what had happened was no on her shoulders alone.

"I ignored my instincts," Nadine had been bluntly honest in admitting the first time she'd sat down with Wanda once they'd returned to the Compound after Lagos...and every time she'd sat down with the Sokovian girl afterward. "I knew as soon as Rumlow started goading Steve that I should've taken the shot, but..." she'd faltered, echoes of the mercenary's taunts grating in the back of her mind. Wanda had curled in on herself, looking guiltily away. Nadine had sighed, brushing a hand over the girl's shoulder, knowing very well she couldn't help what she picked up telepathically sometimes. Especially stressed and despondent as she'd been then.

"But," Nadine had continued determinedly, "I hesitated. I let my personal feelings cloud my judgement. I could've stopped all of this," she'd said grimly then, gesturing toward the muted reports that Wanda had been watching—torturing herself with, really. "You didn't hesitate, and you kept something much worse from happening. So if any of this is on any of us, it's on me."

But Nadine had paused then, growing more serious still, her features impassive as she'd turned Wanda's face to hers with a gentle hand on the girl's chin. "But that being said? The real one to blame for what happened is Crossbones. He's the one who chose to detonate. This is on him, not you, no matter what  _they_  say," she'd jerked a hard nod toward the TV and the silenced anchors speaking over each other as the squabbled over blame and some point or another about the Avengers' involvement.

Wanda had sobbed herself out in Nadine's arms after than.

It had taken many more such conversations, some between Wanda and Nadine, some with Nat or Steve or Nina or, on one occasion, even with Clint when they'd popped out to the farm for a visit when Nina had been on her break before summer term had started.

And slowly, the life had been coming back to Wanda's eyes.

At least, it had been...until  _this_  had all been started up again...

But with all this renewed coverage? With its focus on Wanda and her role in what happened simply because of the sheer power her Enhancement gave her? All their careful work at rebuilding Wanda's confidence was unravelling.

All because rumours were going around that the UN was contemplating some sort of treaty or some such to do with Enhanced persons in response to the pressure to do something following the last straw that had been Lagos. Aimed primarily at the Avengers, no doubt, considering the media focus.

Indifference, the Wakandan King had called it. Nadine fought back a scowl as the clip of King T'Chaka's statement played yet again, the dignified older man sounding genuine in his convictions and in his regret for the innocent lives lost. Did he think the Avengers didn't feel the same?

Did he think Wanda or Steve or Stark for all his irreverence didn't feel every single life lost as a failure? Stark was still struggling against his guilt and shame over Ultron and Sokovia. It was verging on crushing the man, if Nadine was any judge. But Stark hid it well, and he coped the only way he knew how; throwing money at people and foundations and charities in a bid to help them and creating tech that helped his Team.

And had T'Chaka seen the way Wanda would shake, her eyes growing haunted and dull with remorse and sorrow anytime anyone even so much as mentioned Ultron or Sokovia? Even now, over a year later? None of them saw how Stark had been constantly checking for updates on the casualty reports following the Ultron Fiasco, pouring more funds into the MSRF for each new confirmed death or life irrevocably altered. No one saw how Pietro would sit and stare at videos online of what happened in Nova Grad, his face dark and drawn with guilt and anger at himself.

Bruce still hadn't resurfaced...

Indifference, her ass...

Even Steve, long acquainted with the grim realities that came with war and the sheer necessity of not dwelling on the ones they couldn't save in order to keep fighting, wasn't anywhere near unmoved. And he had arguably witnessed far worse in his days as a World War II soldier. More than once after Lagos, Nadine had found him sitting alone, eyes sightless and lost in thought.

"It feels like the least I can do," he'd said to her softly when he'd caught her watching one afternoon, "to feel the weight, the guilt for not being able to save them all—for not staying to do...more to help afterward even knowing that to stay would do more harm than good—to feel it even if only for a few minutes before I have to set it aside." He'd looked to her then. "I try not to let myself wonder about what we could've done differently and if that might have saved even one more life or if we should have stayed even after the fighting was done. I know after New York, Sokovia...I know we weren't in in any shape to help with rescue or clean up, but in Lagos..." He'd paused, visibly setting his thoughts back on track even as his gaze had grown distant, his eyes sliding from hers to fix unseeing over her shoulder. "I know it's not a road I should let myself go down, and usually I can keep from doing it...but this time..." he'd sighed heavily, his gaze lowering back to his hands where they'd been clasped across his knees, "they all deserve that much." Nadine had bit back a sigh of her own, smoothing a hand across his back in sympathy as she'd settled next to him.

"They do," she'd agreed before hesitating, not wholly sure how to voice the concern she felt at the confession. "But...Steve, you've said yourself that we can't save everyone. We both know that. Natasha knows it, Sam does. We've all accepted it and learned to live with what we've done and what we can't change. You did everything you could. We all did," she'd pointed out gently. "But dwelling like this? Even for a few minutes? In this line of work? It's dangerous. Is it something you can afford to let yourself do?" He'd nodded, thoughtful as he'd looked over to her.

"You're right," he'd acknowledged, "and you're right that it's a reality of what I am that I accepted long ago; that I can't save everyone and that I have to live with that."

"Then why shoulder that weight," she'd asked. He'd shrugged.

"Because someone should." He'd grinned at her then, the expression nevertheless still tinged with melancholy. "Besides, I've got broad shoulders."

She sighed. This whole situation was just sideways. And she hated it. She didn't know what to do about any of it. Her rational mind said to set it aside—the guilt, the sorrow—to harden herself to it and move on. It was what she'd been trained to do, after all. But heartless as she'd been trained to be, she wasn't wholly unfeeling. Not anymore...if she had ever truly been. She had been trying to hide from her own feelings of responsibility too, still was, at times. After weeks of struggling against it, she could admit that, now. She'd come around to the acceptance that trying to place the entirety of the blame squarely and solely on Rumlow's shoulders—deserving as it might be—was an attempt to alleviate her own feelings of guilt. She had made a mistake, a fatal one, that had seen innocent people die and she had to live with that. But it was a penance she was willing and strong enough to bear. She'd learned to live with so much else that she'd done, after all. She had to. It was a reality that she had similarly come to realize that Steve had already known.

Behind her, the door to her workroom opened quietly, and a familiar set of steps crossed the threshold. She didn't even have to look up to know it was Steve.

It was funny, a mere year ago, she wouldn't have even dreamed she'd be comfortable enough around the man to be so...open. To not be immediately disappearing behind her masks and straightening from her curled-up pose, hiding her morose mood. Heck, she had barely even let herself sit in such an unguarded manner outside her Workshop in the first place...even in her home.

But as Steve approached? She just leaned back in her seat, lifting her chin from her arms and lowering one leg as she slowly uncurled and emerged from her thoughts.

"Have you seen Pietro?" Nadine looked up to Steve as he pulled a chair up next to her.

"I think he might have run off to visit Nina," she said with a heavy sigh. "He went off at me again yesterday and I told him to back off and cool down. And since I'm pretty sure Wanda had already told him the same thing? He's probably back by now, but I haven't seen him yet...he's likely avoiding me if he is." Pietro had been near furious when Nadine had been unmoved by his renewed venting about Lagos, but had quickly backed down in the face of her impassivity and cool order. "Hopefully if he did, Nina got through to him. She said she'd try, but made no promises...he's pretty wound up." Steve sighed.

"What about this time?" he asked wearily. She shot him a skeptical look.

"What do you think," she asked dryly. "How he should have been with us in Lagos. How he could've stopped this from happening...and given all this?" she gestured absently to the TV playing behind her, her tone turning sympathetic as her irritation with the Sokovian boy faltered. "Can we say we're surprised he's on edge? It's eating him alive that they're coming down so hard on Wanda given how bad she's still hurting from what went down." She fell silent, leaning her head back against her chair as she let out a sigh.

"The thing is? He's not entirely wrong," Steve said softly, and Nadine's gaze snapped sharply to him. "We could've used his Enhancement— _him_ —that day. Another set of eyes? Another player on the field? Maybe then..." he trailed off with weary frustration. Nadine's gaze fell to her loosely crossed arms. He'd been replaying that day over again...

"Steve..." she said, sounding just as weary as he did; they'd been over this so many times. "You can't keep shouldering the blame on this one. Rumlow got one over on all of us," she repeated as calmly as she could manage, not entirely succeeding in keeping her impatience from her voice, "and we made mistakes because of it. Mistakes we've owned up to." She hated how he kept blaming himself, trying to take all the responsibility when he was not the only one to blame. "We know now that he was drawing us out. That whole operation was a bid to get the Avengers out in the open, and it worked. He was expecting us. Hoping we'd turn up."

"I know..." he murmured, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees, head tilting partially toward her; for all that he was generally reading as closed to her point, it was an encouraging bit of body language. Maybe it was finally starting to really sink in.

"Not to mention he knew how to get to you," she continued. "And he got to me while he was at it. This is on me too, Steve, and you're not going to brush that fact off." Steve turned, shooting her a hard look.

"It's not your fault for not taking an earlier shot, Nadine," he insisted in a tone rather like hers—impatient beneath a hard-won veneer of calm. Begrudgingly, she had to give him credit for not flinching as she narrowed her eyes at him for his stubbornness. It was either that or grin. "The objective was to take him alive," he pointed out rationally, nearly causing her to grumble; she'd heard all this already and she still wasn't wholly convinced. "Not to mention there's no knowing what sort of fail-safes he might have had. It might have gone off anyway had you taken him out."

"Or it might not have," she countered coolly. "That's a what if and it's pointless. We. Can't. Know. That's it. Don't do this again, Rogers," she bit out, earning a raised brow at her sharp tone. She ignored it. "This is not just on you and you know it." She sighed, her other leg lowering to the ground so she could lean forward to mirror his pose, her hands clasping lightly between her knees.

"We weren't anticipating that it would be a suicide mission for him," she continued levelly, though a thread of sympathy had begun to enter into her tone as she repeated the speech she'd repeatedly given him, Wanda...even Pietro had heard it. "None of us saw that coming just like none of us saw the vest. I was staring at the man the whole time the two of you were face to face and I missed it; I'm  _trained_  to notice things like that," she emphasized. "For the last time, it's not all on you." He huffed, the shadow of a grin playing at the corner of his lips.

"You want me to admit it's on both of us, don't you," he asked wryly with a resigned quirk of his brow as he met her eye. She nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief at the faint but reassuring twinkle that had appeared in his eye. She snickered instead, reaching out to pat his forearm.

"My shoulders might not be as broad as yours, but I'm stronger than I look," she quipped back. Chuckling softly, his hand rose to cover hers where it had stilled against his arm. Her gaze fell to his larger hand as it lightly patted hers in silent gratitude and commiseration. She fought not to swallow thickly at the pleasant warmth his touch had rising to her skin or the way she was suddenly very aware of the feel of his solid arm beneath her palm or the weight of his hand on hers.

The moment stretched, but it broke when Steve cleared his throat, pulling free to stand. Looking down at her, he offered her a hand up. Nadine studied his features; was that...was it just her or was there the faintest trace of colour to his cheeks. She banished the thought; what a silly notion.

"Stark's here," he said as she took his hand, "and he brought Secretary Ross with him." Nadine nearly groaned as she got to her feet.

"About the Enhanced 'Cease-and-Desist' order the world-wide press has been batting about rumours of?" Steve smiled faintly at her acerbic remark, but his eyes were grave.

"I guess we won't know unless we hear what he has to say," he said. She faltered as she smoothed her black blouse and navy blazer—both slightly rumpled after sitting curled up for as long as she had been—and brushed an invisible bit of lint from her dark jeans; her sister's casual yet still functional style choices had rather rubbed off on her, if she was being honest.

"We?" she questioned with a raised brow. Steve nodded, absently gesturing her toward the door.

"We. You're part of the Team even if you aren't an Avenger," he pointed out plainly. She hesitated, her pulse fluttering. She supposed she was, wasn't she. Warmth swelled happily in her chest and she was hard put to keep the foolish smile that threatened from her face.

Though she did grin before she could help herself.

"Besides, he continued more sedately, "I have a feeling whatever he has to say will affect you too." Her grin faded.

She had a feeling he wasn't wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!
> 
> I really do have to send out a thank TAngel96, XxTheAvengerXxX, lucidhalos and Joey106 over on Wattpad for starting up a (huge) and wonderfully in-depth discussion on the Sokovia Accords as I was polishing this and a couple other upcoming chapters. It really did help me get some of my thoughts in order and clarify some of my points! They are all owed virtual hugs!


	92. Chapter 17

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Spring 2016**

Nadine was starting to think her discipline was slipping. It was taking far more effort than it should have to maintain her mask of patient attentiveness to the US Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross. Though, honestly, prevaricating like he was with his little anecdote about golfing and finding perspective? What was so wrong with just coming out and saying what it was he obviously wanted to say?

She was familiar with the man. She'd heard of him before through her past digging on the Avengers after the Battle of New York and, upon hearing just about a month back that he'd been made Secretary of State, she had dug into him further.

She was not terribly impressed. The man was far from being considered friendly to Enhanced persons and their allies. In fact, unless she was reading too much between the lines—which she rather doubted—he'd all but come out and said on several occasions that he was almost categorically against allowing Enhanced persons their freedoms unless under very strict governmental and even military control.

But then, this was the man who had gone on record years before to say that Bruce Banner was no longer a man with rights, but a weapon belonging to the US Military; something the US Government had been very quick to whitewash upon the former General's appointment as Secretary of State.

No, she did not trust the man in the slightest, and she could all but feel the contempt for all of them radiating off him.

Still, unreadable mask in place, she was a credit to her training, paying careful attention to not only what he said but to how and to what he didn't say; almost always the more interesting part, anyway. And judging how carefully still her sister was sitting? Natasha was doing precisely the same thing.

And she had a feeling Natasha was coming to exactly the same conclusions. It was a meticulously rehearsed speech. Ross was good, she could give the former General that, but there was a barely perceptible lack of true sincerity that had Nadine wary.

But, of course, like all facades, the Secretary's only went so far.

"You have fought for us," he was saying solemnly, "protected us, risked your lives." Only for his tone to subtly shift, the civil, even appreciative address hardening ever so slightly. "But while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some…who would prefer the word 'vigilantes'." Some like him, she read in his voice. Nadine wasn't sure if the rest of the Team caught it, but she certainly did, as did Natasha and Wanda, judging by the faint change in her sister's posture as she straightened in her seat between Rhodes and Steve and the way Wanda drew in an uncertain breath from her place between her brother and Vision. Nadine's carefully maintained expression nearly faltered into a frown; Ross was walking a fine line bordering on outright accusation. Natasha's lip curved slightly as she caught Nadine's eye for a split-second—understanding that they were on the same page passing easily between them—before turning to Ross.

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked politely, though there was no mistaking the challenging thread to her tone. And judging by the way Ross looked up to the redheaded spy? He was not impressed.

And it showed. "How about 'dangerous'?"

Oh, yeah…there it was…

All at once the tension in the room spiked. As her eyes flicked from Avenger to Avenger, Nadine noticed nearly everyone froze or at least inhaled in barely concealed unease at the shift in the former General. A faint feeling of vindication surfaced in the back of Nadine's mind at how clearly the Secretary had just made his personal sentiments known, sentiments she had already picked up on. The man certainly had a chip on his shoulder.

Though that vindication quickly turned to a cool, even protective anger.

"What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals," Ross threw out blithely, "who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" Nadine nearly lost her composure then, angry and uneasy as she forced herself through several slow, measured breaths where she sat off behind Sam, apart from the group at the table as Tony was. Ross brought up footage of the devastation that had followed each major event the Avengers had been involved in to make his point, sedately naming each place with a grim, accusing tone. She could feel her features slipping past unreadable indifference into cool detachment.

Especially when Wanda, growing paler by the second, swallowed back a gasp of pain, unable to bear looking at the footage from Lagos. Next to her, Pietro's jaw clenched as he turned to his sister, discreetly reaching out to clasp her hand beneath the table. From where she sat, Nadine could see Wanda flinch, nearly pulling back from the gesture of comfort. Pietro swelled and Nadine knew he was winding up to lash out at the Secretary. She shot him a firm look and a subtle shake of her head, warning him against losing his temper. It had been clear from the moment they'd entered the conference room that Pietro had been distrustful of Ross, the way he'd unconsciously placed himself between the Secretary and his twin as they took their seats enforcing that. And Ross' attitude wasn't helping. But miraculously, Pietro heeded her silent admonition, though his eyes glittered with barely restrained temper.

Perhaps because he could guess that she sympathized. It woke her protective, even maternal instincts to see Wanda reacting as she was, the pain and shame and remorse clear on the younger woman's face. It left her fuming that Ross was insinuating that the Avengers were the ones solely responsible for the destruction left in their wake to their faces. That they needed to be held accountable for it—or as Ross obviously believed, liable and thus subject to penalty—despite the fact that they had been fighting to  _protect_  the people of Earth. Like the press of the world these days? Ross was conveniently ignoring that, for the most part, the Avengers hadn't been the ones to start these fights…

But what was truly unsettling? No matter that his personal sincerity was in question? Ross wasn't exactly wrong, either. Though, admittedly, it sounded far more convincing when it was King T'Chaka of Wakanda speaking on the matter.

Ross was definitely wrong about the preposterous idea that the Avengers didn't care about the destruction they left behind, but the rest? Nadine's stomach churned uneasily. She could see the point, even if she didn't wholly agree with it.

Across the table, Steve's hand fell from where it had been resting against his chin, his features hard, mirroring the way Nadine felt. "Okay. That's enough," he said softly, meeting Ross' eye. Ross didn't flinch. Instead, he turned, nodding toward his companion. Nadine truly did frown this time, taking note of the thick document that appeared in the aide's hand.

"For the past four years you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision," Ross continued, returning to a much more official demeanour from his decidedly confrontational one the moment before. "That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution." And Nadine's heart sunk as he took the document from his aide and pointedly set it on the table in front of Pietro, facing Wanda. Nadine's gaze fixed on the white and blue binding as Pietro's brow furrowed and Wanda reached in front of him to pull it toward her. It was confirmation of the existence of what she was sure they had all heard rumours of over the last few days. The Sokovian girl nearly shoved the document across the table toward Rhodes as he silently offered to take it. She couldn't get it away from her fast enough. And Nadine couldn't blame her.

Ross began to pace slowly around the table as he explained. "The Sokovia Accords. Approved by one hundred and seventeen countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization." He spared Nadine a brief glance as he passed between Sam where he sat at the table and Nadine in her place next to the frosted panels that separated the Common Room from the stairwell beyond. She met his almost dismissive gaze with an inscrutable one of her own. It didn't cause his speech to falter, but it did cause his brow to crease faintly. "Instead," he pressed on, circling around past Tony to pause between Steve and Natasha, "they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary." Nadine's breath caught in her throat, her chest feeling tight. Rationally, she could see the merit and even the wisdom, but emotionally?

It sounded like the World Security Council all over again…and the Heads of HYDRA.

They wanted to put the Avengers under a bureaucratic thumb. Her stomach twisted as she met her sister's grave gaze.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," Steve spoke up, his voice betraying nothing but calm confidence even though he didn't look up to the former General in challenge the way Natasha had. It wasn't necessary. There was a cool authority to his tone that was unmistakable. "I feel we've done that." Ross just looked implacably down at Steve.

"Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" Ross asked, his condescension clear. Steve looked up to the Secretary, giving very little away, even to Nadine and the rest of his Team. Certainly not to Ross, or he might have reconsidered continuing: "If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes? You can bet there'd be consequences." Nadine couldn't help herself. She stiffened. She could feel her sister's gaze heavy on her, but she didn't look up. She was slipping back into her old habits hard and fast, her instincts to go cold in the face of her unease and fear mingling with the flare of protective anger Wanda's distress had woken and Ross' subtle attack on the Team had stoked.

It was an unstable mix, and one that perhaps left her no longer as wholly rational as she might have been before she'd fallen in with the Avengers and they'd loosened the iron-hold her training had once had on her. But as rational as she usually was or not, she couldn't stay silent. Equating people to weapons did not sit well with her. Neither did challenging her Team.

"Yes, well, nukes are not people," she spoke up, drawing all attention to her. "And people do have free will and rights. It is a rather important distinction, I think."

With an indignant huff and a sound perilously close to a grumble, Secretary Ross turned his attention to Nadine. She could feel it. But like Steve, she didn't raise her eyes from where her hands clasped loosely on her crossed legs until she was good and ready. And when she was? She fixed the former General with a cool, impassive look. Ross' eyes hardened. Nadine stared right back, not intimidated in the least by the former General. "And who are you?" he challenged.

"A Consultant," Nadine replied coolly without missing a beat. If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn't working. She could swear she heard someone stifle a snort of amusement—normally she would have pegged Stark, but he didn't seem in the mood today. Sam, maybe? Pietro? But she didn't break her stare with Ross to find out.

"That is not a distinction you are qualified to make," Ross declared, his tone clipped and indignant and laced with unconscious authority that came along with years of being accustomed to having people jump to his beck and call. Nadine was unmoved.

"Maybe," she dismissed, probably more patronizingly than was wise. "But given that Human Rights is also something valued and protected by the UN? It seems rather relevant to keep in mind given the subject. Equating or even objectifying people to inanimate weapons does seem a rather dangerous line of thinking," she added with a pointed, arguably challenging look to the former General even as she spread her hands in a placating gesture. Ross' jaw clenched as his features hardened further.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was sure her sister's mouth had parted in astonishment while Steve and Tony had both stiffened noticeably. Not to mention she could feel everyone else looking to her in varying degrees of awe and disbelief. Heck, if she was being truly honest, she was rather surprised at herself. When it came to situations like this one? She had been trained to observe and interpret. Not to engage.

She really had changed since falling in with the Avengers, hadn't she…

She leaned back slightly, purposefully conveying how perfectly at ease she was even if in truth she felt like she was wound tighter than a bowstring with irritation. "But I'm sure that's not what you intended to imply," she concluded, her voice carefully calm and respectful…not that there was any doubting the veiled barb to her words. Ross bristled. It was a dig and they all knew it. In his chair, Tony slumped further with a barely audible groan. It was Ross who finally looked away first, and Nadine felt her lip tug with a tiny, involuntary but satisfied grin.

Was it horribly wrong to say that she was enjoying needling the man? Probably. But Nadine had long come to accept that her morals were more flexible than the average person's.

Besides, it made her feel better.

So she felt little remorse for pushing back in the face of the man's poorly concealed hostility. The man was threatening her Team. He was looking for ways to curb her friends and bring them to heel…probably worse, judging by the things he'd left unsaid and how he'd conveyed what he had. She could see it in his eyes and his body language. He didn't like them. More than that, she realized as she assessed his reaction to the things she'd said, he did not like that he couldn't control them…or rather,  _take_  control of them.

"The role of Enhanced persons needs to evolve," Ross declared, resuming his officious manner as though she hadn't interrupted him and returning to the head of the table where he'd started his presentation. "They, and you, need to realized that running around without oversight is not acceptable." He stopped, levelling them, one by one—Nadine tellingly excluded, she noticed with an internal smirk—with an assertive, assessing look. "Compromise," he continued. "Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground." It was nearly convincing, but for all the projected sincerity in his tone, it very much sounded to Nadine like Ross was distinctly unhappy with the 'middle ground.' Nadine's attention was drawn to Rhodes, the Colonel looking thoughtfully to the Accords document beneath his hand.

"So, there are contingencies," Rhodes asked. Nadine inhaled deeply, reining in the slight flutter of unease that was once again trying to settle in her stomach. She had figured Rhodes would likely see the merits outweighing the drawbacks. She suspected from her scrutiny of his features as he spoke that Rhodes was still deliberating, and likely wanted to read through the document before making his final call. But Nadine could also read in his body language that, though cautious, he was open to the Accords. It was the soldier in him coming out, the respect for hierarchy and the belief that chain of command was necessary to maintain order. She couldn't say she was surprised, either. Not after getting to know the man since starting to work with the Avengers.

But Ross was no longer interested in a debate, even one that could shift and even lessen the reluctance that was nearly tangible in the room around him. "Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords," he said instead of answering Rhodes, glancing to Tony instead. At the table, Steve twisted, glancing to Stark himself. The flutter of unease didn't lessen in the slightest at the nearly imploring look the billionaire gave the Captain. Something Ross wasn't blind to. "Talk it over," he concluded, beginning to edge toward the exit.

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Every eye in the room shifted to Natasha, who watched the former General with keen, challenging eyes. Nadine looked to Ross, as did everyone else.

Ross came to a stop as the redheaded Avenger spoke, meeting Natasha's question with a hard look and a condescending tone. "Then you retire."

The smile that came to Natasha's face at the answer was tight and understanding. The flutter gave way to a cool, heavy weight pressing in on Nadine's chest. Oh, that did not sound promising…

"And does retiring require being locked in a box if one—how shall we put it—doesn't want to?" Her own cool, quiet words slipped out before Nadine could stop them. This all sounded dangerously familiar to her. Ross' hard gaze fell on her, taking in the coolly blank set to her features.

"One would get put in a box if one breaks the law," Ross said crossly back, "and make no mistake, the Accords are the law now. They will be enforced."

"And  _when_  the execution of the law is in question?" she countered softly, her careful emphasis too clear to be missed. Ross' eyes narrowed further on her, the tension between them, the silent battle of wills palpable. There was a calculating light in his eye that she didn't like. But then, it had been present the entire time he'd been talking to them. The only difference was, until now, it had been reserved for the Twins, Vision, Natasha and Steve; the Threats. So, he considered her a threat now, did he?

About time.

She could nearly feel Natasha and Steve both willing her to drop her challenge of the Secretary, both of them tensing in the corner of her eye.

Ross said nothing. He just held her gaze for a moment longer before turning and striding from the Common Room.

The tense silence left in his wake was nearly deafening.


	93. Chapter 18

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Spring 2016**

"Want me to get rid of him?" Steve glanced over to Nadine at her dry murmur as she settled on the orange couch to his right. There was no need to specify whom she meant; Ross was a rather divisive figure to the Team right at the moment. She handed him the Accords document even as she gave him a wan grin. "I do know a good assassin…" He chuckled, his sober expression easing slightly as he looked to the thick document in his hands. Across from Nadine, Natasha looked up, her own faint grin teasing at her lips.

"Tempting," Steve murmured absently back as he began skimming through the book in his hands. The uneasy flutter in Nadine's chest wasn't eased even if her grin grew just a touch less grim. He spared her an assessing glance. "Was it really a good idea to go after Ross like that," he asked softly, careful to keep his question between the two of them. Not that it was difficult considering the volume of the debate between Rhodes and Sam going on behind him. Nadine inhaled deeply, her eyes falling to the coffee table for a moment as she considered before looking back to him. He was still watching her. She shrugged, her expression nevertheless unrepentant.

"Someone had to," she answered back just as quietly, "the man is two steps short of actively campaigning to lock up the Avengers. Especially Wanda. It was quite clear he sees you all as little more than criminals. He is very much not a fan."

"And challenging him like that helped?" he countered with a raised brow. She nearly smiled at the way the corner of his mouth twitched in concert with the faint glimmer in his eyes. She cocked her head minutely in thought.

"He needed the reminder that we're not the kinds of people he wants to try walking all over," she said, a cool edge seeping into her tone. But then a small, pleased look spread across her face. "Besides," she added smugly, lifting her elbow to rest casually across the arm of the couch, "it was a little bit fun." A small huff escaped Steve as he looked back to the document in his hands. And as Nadine's gaze fell to the blue-bound book, her grin faded along with the momentary cheer her quiet conversation with Steve had brought.

Not that the argument going on behind Steve was helping matters any. Next to Natasha, Tony had slumped back against the arm of their couch, his hand tented over his face. His faintly twisted features betrayed what Nadine suspected was likely a tension headache developing behind the billionaire's eyes. She could sympathize.

Ross and his presentation of the Accords and their imminent implementation had left them all a little unbalanced.

Okay, perhaps more than a little in some cases.

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor," Rhodes was defending to Sam, the former paratrooper having challenged the Colonel's staunch defence of his willingness to support the Accords with a commendably—to Nadine's mind—scathing retort about the now absent Secretary of State, "which is one more than you have."

"He's also the one who ran Banner off after his irradiation and worked to convince anyone who would listen that he was no more than property of the US Military instead of a human being with rights," Nadine muttered under her breath, earning a thin-lipped glance from her sister. Not that the look in her sister's eyes said she entirely disagreed.

"So let's say we agree to this thing," Sam had continued, having obviously not heard Nadine. "How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?" Nadine fought to keep her hands from fisting.

That was definitely something she was worried about. For all the rationale behind the Accords—after all, Nadine could cede that, of the options the Avengers were left with, it was likely the best one—that was one aspect that concerned her

One of many things…like the registration requirement…

And she obviously wasn't the only one. She met first her sister's then Steve's eye, understanding passing between the three of them, all three bearing worried and veiled expressions masking similar apprehension over the idea. Call her jaded, but Nadine had long ago learned to be wary of being dictated to by a faceless—and sometimes not so faceless—bureaucratic authority. Especially when the consequences for disobeying fell along the lines of forced retirement or 'retirement.'

"One hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this," Rhodes objected impatiently, "One hundred and seventeen countries, Sam, and you're just like, 'No, that's cool. We got it.'" Nadine bit back a sigh at the Colonel's point. Because it was a valid one. Whether it was a good point or not, she was undecided, but considering it was the UN? The UN wasn't HYDRA. It wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D.. It wasn't the World Security Council. It was the United Nations. Yet the flutter of unease she was using to help gauge her own openness to the idea of the Accords was still going strong. She just…didn't know…

…No, that was wrong…she did know. She just knew it would have unpleasant consequences she was dreading having to face.

Sam was unmoved. "How long are you going to play both sides?" the former paratrooper challenged. But Rhodes didn't have a chance to respond, the two soldiers getting interrupted almost as soon as Sam's question was delivered.

"I have an equation." Everyone paused to look to Vision. From her chair between where the synthezoid sat next to Nadine and where Stark had thrown himself down next to Natasha, Wanda looked up from the ball she had curled into while Pietro straightened from where he effectively stood sentinel leaning against his twin's armchair. From where he stood over beside Nat, Nadine heard Sam scoff, both spies glancing to the former paratrooper.

"Oh, this will clear it up," Sam muttered, sparing a look to Rhodes as the two of them shifted their attention to Vision.

Vision, meanwhile, didn't fidget in the slightest under the sudden scrutiny or the tension among his teammates, his pensive features taking in everyone in turn as he elaborated. "In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known Enhanced persons has grown exponentially," he said, "And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

The flutter in Nadine's stomach twisted faintly. She hadn't considered that. For all that the interest and mixed success in creating Enhanced persons had been around for a long time—Steve, Erskine and Johann Schmitt during WWII prime examples of just how far back the interest had been acted upon, not to mention Barnes, herself and the Treatment Program—she had to admit that events like New York, Greenwich and Sokovia had been all but unheard of until very recently indeed. And the frequency of such events did seem to be increasing.

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Nadine glanced to Steve at his question, frowning faintly. It was hard to tell what he felt about the statement, sounding more curious if Vision believed as much over worried that it might be true. Not that there wasn't a measure of unease layered beneath that curiosity, the flicker of realization and its accompanying dismay in his eyes as he watched Vision contemplate making that clear.

"I'm saying there may be a causality," Vision clarified. Nadine inhaled deeply as Vision paused, though whether for effect or to decide how best to continue, she was unsure…likely the latter; Vision wasn't terribly prone to intentional theatrics. Whichever it was, there was no mistaking his sincerity or the gravity of his reasoning. "Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict…breeds catastrophe. Oversight…" once more Vision paused, deciding how best to convey the solemnity of his argument. "Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Boom," Rhodes murmured over Nadine's left shoulder. Nadine's eyes lowered to her loosely clasped hands, unable to deny that Vision had a point.

They all had points in favour of the Accords. And against.

Even Ross, much as she might like to deny it, hadn't been entirely wrong, though his presentation had left a great deal to be desired.

The Accords really did seem to be a middle ground. The best of a bad situation. And, much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't sure she could see any other viable options. Not for the Team. Because she just couldn't see them going rogue. Not all of them. Not if the UN was involved.

"Tony?" Nadine looked up at the sound of her sister's voice, her attention automatically zeroing in on Stark as his hand fell from his face. He looked so weary, she noted with a pang. A faint grin tugged at Natasha's lips as she too looked to the billionaire. "You're being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal," Natasha prompted, her tone fond yet teasing even as it was serious. The corner of Tony's mouth twitched and Nadine felt her own lips threaten to curl even as she studied his features; she couldn't entirely read him in that moment. There was a measure of…what she tentatively identified as conflict and perhaps determination there, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. At least, until Steve's resigned voice cut in as he realized what the look on Stark's face meant.

"It's because he's already made up his mind." And Nadine's frown returned at the thread of accusation in the Captain's voice.

"Boy, you know me so well," Stark murmured dryly as he rolled gingerly up to a sitting position, wincing as his hand rose once more to his head before he got to his feet. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache." Nadine was nearly tempted to roll her eyes at Stark's dramatics, save for the unconscious cues that he wasn't entirely exaggerating his discomfort. Though, Nadine suspected it had less to do with a physical pain than one of conscience. Looking to her sister, she had a feeling she was on the right track. For all that there was an indulgent cast to Natasha's features, there was a genuine concern there. Not to mention a rather knowing expression in her sister's green eyes. Everyone had turned to Stark as he made his way over to the kitchenette. Nadine eased over as Rhodes settled next to her, leaning on the arm of the couch and watching his friend intently.

"That's what's going on, Cap," Tony continued as he snatched up a mug and peered into the sink. "It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal?" Nearly everyone blinked in either confusion, exasperation or consideration at the abrupt change in topic. "Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?" Once more, the temptation to roll her eyes emerged, but Nadine's eyes narrowed instead as she recognized the defensive, even reactionary root of the general admonishment. There was so much…guilt bubbling up in Tony. The inane comment was a typical way of Tony's to give him a moment to gather himself. Which meant that he had something particularly substantial on his mind.

It was at that moment Nadine realized Steve was right.

She didn't even have to see the photo of Charles Spencer he pulled up to show them or hear Tony explain the significance of the boy…to him, to them, though her chest had clenched painfully when Stark revealed Spencer had been killed during their final battle against Ultron.

As soon as she'd seen the almost dismayed, pleading flicker in his eyes as he'd shot them all a hard look before he'd pulled out his phone, before she'd even heard the way he'd vacillated between defensive, sarcastic, distressed, angry, scathing and…and sad as he'd made his own point to compliment Vision's, she'd known.

For all his theatricality, Nadine wasn't sure if she'd ever seen Stark so serious nor so unsettled. Not even during the Ultron Fiasco.

This was what Tony believed he needed to do, what they all needed to do. He genuinely seemed to believe that this was the right choice, the responsible choice. That it was a small way to at least try to make amends, even, both on his part and the Team's. It was then that Nadine realized just how mired by guilt Tony still was over the events of Sokovia. How scarred. How…frightened he was. And honestly? Her heart ached for him. Close or not, she could not only sympathize with the man, but feel for him as well. It was an echo of what she'd contemplated during the Ultron Fiasco; Tony was not meant to be a soldier. He might act it, he might even be good at it, but at heart he was…he was a builder, a fixer. He lived to fix things and since sometimes the only way to do that in the world he was a part of was with a fight, he threw himself into the fray without hesitation. But the weight of the fight and the cost of that fight weighed heavily on him and he didn't wholly know how to deal with it. He was struggling to find a way to fix the damage he'd done…the damage they'd all done.

Because it didn't just weigh heavily on Stark. It weighed on all of them, the cost of their determination to save the world, to be the first and last line of defence. She knew it did.

So maybe…maybe he was right. There was no doubting he believed it. And as the weight of his words and the reminder of the very human cost of their battles and the irresponsible choices that Tony and the Team as a whole had made in the past settled over the room, there was no doubt that Nadine wasn't the only one to feel it. The guilt and remorse was nearly tangible between them all. Nadine let out a long, slow breath, easily recognizing the same feelings of grief and regret twisting in her own gut on the downcast faces and tensed jaws of everyone around her.

Stark's features hardened, an almost fervent, even frantic light coming to his eyes as his voice grew sharp and definitive. "There's no decision-making process here," he said, almost sounding his normal self again after his emotion-filled speech, only for his voice to grow emphatic and determined as he leaned against the counter facing them, his arms crossing authoritatively across his chest. "We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game." Nadine bit back a sad sigh at the change in the normally irreverent and cocky Avenger. There was no artifice, no flippancy, no misdirection. He was painfully serious in his conviction on this. Even his penchant for theatricality was somewhat subdued, or at least, wasn't wholly intentional as it often was with Tony. And it hurt to realize more than she could've expected. "If we can't accept limitations," Tony concluded gravely, the thread of accusation in his tone stinging, "if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys." As he fell silent, the weight over the room only grew heavier. Because he did have a point, after a fashion, and they all knew it.

"Tony," Steve broke in then, looking up to Tony, "someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Nadine exchanged a startled look with her sister. A faint frown had settled over her sister's features, her eyes veiled and thoughtful. The unease in her gut intensified. Steve was going to fight this. Nadine fought the urge to swallow thickly, inhaling to speak up herself before Steve had even finished. But Tony beat her to it.

"Who said we're giving up?" Tony countered without missing a beat. Steve glanced back to the document in his hands.

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions," Steve said in response, looking back to Stark, "this document just shifts the blame." Nadine looked up to Rhodes as he shifted next to her, frowning deeply.

"I'm sorry, Steve," the Colonel broke in incredulously, "that... That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about." Nadine fought to keep her jaw from clenching as he spoke, her gaze dropping to her hands; that was not the tack to take. "It's not the World Security Council," Rhodes pointed out impatiently, "it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., it's not HYDRA." It was the argument she'd been trying to make with herself. Yet, even hearing someone else say it? It wasn't helping as much as she might have hoped.

And Steve summed the reason why up perfectly: "No, but it's run by people with agendas and agendas change."

That…that was a truth about bureaucracy she knew intimately. And while the UN was definitely not like the World Security Council or S.H.I.E.L.D.—by definition, it was an organization with a mandate to protect the safety of all people first and foremost—it was still, at heart, a political, bureaucratic body. And she'd long since learned to place very little real trust in such bodies, no matter their mandates or intentions.

She looked to Steve, the fervency in his tone surprising her a little. She'd figured he'd likely be of a similar mind as she was on this point, but she hadn't wholly expected him to be quite so impassioned. It left her just as conflicted as before, no matter that she already rationally knew what the Team should do. And what she knew she was going to have to do.

"That's good," Tony broke in, sounding nearly patronizing even as he sounded vaguely defensive. Nadine's attention shifted back to the billionaire as he came to stand next to Steve and Sam, his focus wholly on Steve. "That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing."

Steve turned to meet Tony's scrutiny head on, matching his conviction with his own. Nadine couldn't help but stiffen at the tension building between the two. "Tony," Steve broke in emphatically, barely allowing Tony to finish, "you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose." Nadine frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that was what the Accords were intended to do, but it certainly was a very real concern.

Tony couldn't hold Steve's gaze, a faint flicker in his expression causing Nadine to sigh heavily. He saw Steve's point. But he was fighting it. He had himself so convinced that this was their only option…he was so determined that this needed to be done and that it needed to be done  _now_. "What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go?" Steve pressed, no doubt seeing exactly what Nadine had picked up on. He knew Tony much better than she did; there was no way he could have missed it. "What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

It was a point that visibly—to Nadine, at least…she wasn't sure about everyone else—shook Tony's conviction, even if only minutely. He wasn't sure he could argue against that…but at the same time, neither was he entirely sure it was true anymore. Nadine wasn't sure she could argue it, even with the mistakes in the Team's past. It was part of why she personally believed the Avengers were so important;  _because_  they operated independently.  _Because_  they had no interest in politics or agendas.

Just in protecting people.

And she  _knew_  looking at Stark that it was a mandate he agreed with. It was probably why he changed tactics.

"If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later," he countered softly, pitting a discerning pragmatism—or cynicism, depending on the perspective—he didn't overtly display often against Steve's equally valid points. "That's the fact. That won't be pretty." Irreverent and immature as he might come across a great deal of the time, Tony was not stupid. Nor was he wrong. Nadine knew it in her gut. As much as she didn't like the idea of the Accords, she knew both Ross and Tony were right; they were a compromise. They were a better option than she had honestly been expecting. They looked to bring the Avengers back into a hierarchy they way they had once been with S.H.I.E.L.D. and to reassure people that the Avengers would be taking the field for good reasons. The right reasons. And she could see on Steve's face that he knew it too. Same with her sister. And Sam…and everyone else.

They had been robbed of real options with the Accords being pushed through so quickly.

"You're saying they'll come for me," Wanda broke in then, speaking for the first time since Ross had left…since before Ross had even begun his presentation, even. Nadine's gut clenched at her painfully hollow tone. Next to her Pietro stiffened, a mix of alarm and anger shadowing his features as he looked to Steve, Tony and, to her surprise, Nadine.

"We would protect you," Vision said softly, looking to Wanda. Nadine blinked given that it was him to voice first what they all verged on saying, but couldn't even wholly say she was surprised. A bond had been struck between Wanda and Vision since Sokovia, the synthezoid proving nearly as protective of Wanda at times as Pietro was prone to be. Surprising or not, his quick defence reassured Wanda, and she relaxed against her twin for the first time since they'd sat down, her hand sneaking into Pietro's. Inhaling deeply, the speedster began to relax himself. The tension in the room eased, if only slightly.

"Maybe Tony's right," Natasha broke in then. As they had when Vision had spoken up with his equation, all eyes turned to Natasha with varying degrees of surprise and shock. Even Nadine was taken aback. Though, as her little sister continued, Nadine suddenly understood the veiled, thoughtful cast she had noticed on her sister's features as Tony had taken over the Team's debate over the Accords. "If we have one hand on the wheel," Natasha rationalized as she looked between Steve and Nadine, a knowing glint in her eyes as the two sisters looked to each other revealing that the redhead knew Nadine had seen the same writing on the wall, "we can still steer. If we take it off—"

Sam interrupted, sounding nearly as incredulous as Rhodes had when he'd challenged Steve: "Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?" Natasha shot the former paratrooper a faintly pleading look before focusing back on Steve.

"I'm just…" Natasha hesitated for an instant, carefully choosing how best to explain, "reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back." Steve glanced from Natasha to Nadine, question silent but clear on his face. All Nadine could do was shrug minutely, enough to convey that she couldn't argue her sister's observation. Working—fighting from within was what they had both been taught to do, so Nadine couldn't fault her sister for seeing that as a viable option. His jaw tightened subtly. Tony, however, was still looking to Natasha, a bit of his familiar light returning to his eyes now that he'd let out what had been weighing on him.

"Focus up," Tony burst out, dark eyes glinting almost mischievously, "I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?" Not that she'd ever admit it aloud, Nadine was almost relieved even as she bit back a groan at the re-emergence of Tony's more characteristic antics.

One that Natasha's voice clearly echoed as she looked to Tony to see a smug grin tugging at his lips. "Oh, I want to take it back now," she said with a barely restrained grimace. Tony's smirk widened.

"No, no, no," Stark countered, waggling a finger at Natasha, "You can't retract it. Thank you." Natasha shot Nadine a pleading look, but Nadine had nothing to offer, only barely restraining her mingled amusement and exasperation at Stark's self-congratulation. "Unprecedented," he was continuing as he straightened, grinning despite the way Natasha was narrowing her eyes at him, "okay, case closed: I win." Next to Nadine, Steve's lips had thinned, though his features had softened ever so slightly. She took it as a good sign. Just as the muffled snicker from Wanda was encouraging. The tension suffusing the room eased by another degree.

It was then that Tony turned to Nadine. Before she could stop herself, she was tensing in anticipation of the question, and of the reaction to her answer.

"Ryker? What about you? You as reasonable as your sister-in-espionage?" She looked up to Tony, carefully avoiding Steve's eye as she did.

"No. I won't sign."

"Nadine?" She glanced to Natasha, but before her sister could continue, Nadine interrupted her, silently entreating her to understand.

"I'm sorry,  _lisichka_ , but I won't," she repeated softly. "I can see where you're coming from—really, I can—"

"Then why were you so antagonistic toward Ross?" Nadine looked to Rhodes as he interrupted her, a frown beginning to form despite his question being one more of curiosity than accusation.

"Because he was probably the worst choice to bring this to the Team?" There was no mistaking her opinion of the former General as her tone turned crisp. "Just about anyone else would've been better. Had someone like the King of Wakanda been the one to make the argument? Someone who doesn't default to labelling us as the problem? Someone who doesn't openly see people like us as weapons that he should have the ability and license to appropriate the way he wanted to with Banner years back? I might have been a little more receptive," she said briskly. "But just because I don't like Ross' motives or trust that the Accords will always do as they are intended doesn't mean I can't see where this is going. Natasha has a point. So does Tony." She paused with a faint sigh, organizing her thoughts. "If you all want to keep doing what you're doing? The Accords are probably your best shot. I'm pragmatic, in case you haven't noticed," she added dryly, earning faint grins and soft chuckles from the rest of the Team, before growing serious again. "Like Ross said, the Accords are going to happen, as is everything that goes with them. It can't be stopped anymore." She shifted, straightening. She finally met Steve's eye, an ache forming in her chest at the faint, unreadable frown creasing his brow as he studied her. There was a trace of sympathy mingling with apprehension there that had her stomach twisting. After a moment, she glanced up to Rhodes, then to Stark and finally to her sister as she continued.

"But I won't because I've already gone through having someone else dictate my missions, forcing me to follow their morals under threat," she knew her carefully collected voice was beginning to grow hard, but she couldn't help that for all that she saw the reason and the merit behind their intent, the Accords as they stood now just sat wrong with her; they brought up too many bad memories, for one, "not allowed to make my own calls while the only thing I hold dear was held over my head. I won't risk letting that happen to me again. I won't sign. Neither will Nina. Besides," she concluded, her voice turning wry, "I can't." Several of the others frowned at the distinction, but it was Rhodes who finally asked.

"Why 'can't'?" Nadine bit back an exasperated sound when she noticed even Natasha looked lost.

"Because of the registration requirement," Nadine elaborated coolly. "Frankly, that's what bothers me the most right now." Across from her, Natasha shifted uncomfortably, immediately recognizing Nadine's reasoning. Between them, Steve inhaled sharply, a measure of understanding coming to his face too…along with a very deep concern. Not everyone else did, however.

"What?" Rhodes asked in confusion even as Stark demanded almost simultaneously: "Why?" Nadine spared Rhodes a glance before turning a challenging look to Stark. To his credit, he didn't flinch under her scrutiny.

"Because unlike all of you, I haven't been outed. Nina definitely hasn't," she said dryly. Only for her nearly amused tone to vanish as she continued impassively: "Because, as far as the world is concerned, I'm either dead or wanted and Nina doesn't exist."

Almost everyone made some sort of confused sound or surprised expression save Vision—who only looked mildly perplexed—and Natasha. Nadine sighed heavily. "You all can't have forgotten that easily…Nadine and Nina Thomson aren't real. Neither were Nadine and Nicola Ryker. Not really. They're covers. Good ones, but still just covers. And despite my best efforts at damage control, the Nadine Ryker one is already all but blown, no thanks to Ultron," she added bitterly. "The Ghost is wanted around the world and not just by legit Intelligence Agencies. Nadya Ivanovna Rykova is dead to most of the world and wanted, preferably dead, to most of those who know otherwise. And Nicola Rykova only exists on a single piece of paper hidden safely away; I went to a lot of trouble to keep it that way. And I did it precisely to avoid what happened with Strucker and Zhirova. I knew she'd be a target simply because she's my daughter, either as a means to get to me or because of interest in her personally."

"What, no patronymic name for Nina," Stark piped up half-heartedly. Nadine was almost tempted to laugh as she raised a brow at the billionaire. Even after getting shut down time and time again when he tried to wheedle the identity of Nina's father out of her, Stark just didn't give up, his curiosity insatiable especially when he knew the answer was being deliberately kept from him. But Nadine had to admit it was somewhat amusing, a game she only played because she knew he saw it as one too. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Steve shift uncomfortably.

"Not that I'm ever going to tell you," she bit back dryly.

Stark just shrugged. "Worth a try."

"The point is," she continued, deliberately ignoring Stark's comment, "the instant I sign and I'm put on that Registry? The crosshairs I've been hiding from for most of the last two decades will be right back on me again. By all definitions? Unlike all of you I am actually a criminal. I was a blackmarket assassin for most of my adult life—one of the most effective in the world—and throwing in with the Avengers doesn't erase that just as retiring from that life doesn't. Not to mention the target I've kept from being painted on Nina's back will be unavoidable if we are put on that Registry. And I have no interest in reopening that part of my life if I can help it. I won't put Nina through all that. Not again. Not now that she's settled and happy again. I don't have a choice; I have to retire The Ghost. This time for good."

Even Stark looked cowed by her explanation. If she was reading him right, he'd been hoping her and Natasha's combined support might turn Steve's decision away from the direction it was very obviously trending.

"Okay, inability to sign aside," Stark broke in then, eying Nadine intently, "I'm getting a distinct sense that you still support signing it." Nadine's jaw tightened against a groan even as Natasha shot him a disparaging look. "What? It's a valid question. I didn't hear anything—" But Nadine's attention was drawn away from the bickering that was on the verge of breaking out between Stark and her sister as Steve pulled out his phone.

Immediately she was straightening at the way his features went blank.

But not before she'd caught a potent flicker of grief.

"I have to go," he murmured distractedly. And no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he had stood and left the room, his abrupt departure startling Tony and Natasha into silence, the whole Team watching him go with confusion and bewilderment. Nadine caught her sister's eye, subtly shaking her head at Natasha's silent question. She had no idea what had shaken Steve so suddenly.

But she knew whatever it was, it wasn't good news.

And before she could help herself, Nadine was on her feet and following him.

She found him standing at the bottom of the stairwell leading out from the Avengers' private wing toward the main lobby of the Compound. And her heart sank. For all that his expression had been unreadable as he'd left the common area, it was written all over the way his shoulders slumped and his head had fallen to his hand.

Cautiously, she descended to stop across from him on the last step, leaning against the opposite railing. She didn't say anything, waiting for him indicate what he needed her to do; listen or leave. Still, she just…she didn't want him to be alone.

It was several long minutes before he moved, his hand dropping from where he'd been pinching the bridge of his nose to cross tightly over his chest, the barely perceptible trembling in his shoulders easing.

"It's—it's Peggy. She's gone," he finally said softly, still looking down to his shoes. Nadine felt her stomach drop. She was struck by the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him, her hand even rising from her side. But she couldn't quite manage to actually step forward and touch him.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," she managed to murmur, a surprisingly strong feeling of inadequacy surfacing with her genuine sympathy. His head tilted slightly toward her, though he still didn't look up. A small, grateful smile came to his face, though. After a moment he shifted, finally looking up. Finally looking up at her. Her heart ached at how painfully bright and sad his eyes were.

"Thank you, Nadine," he said softly, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "but…but it's okay. She had a long life, a good life. She accomplished so much, and she had a—a family she loved, and who loved her in return." He hesitated and Nadine had to fight back a wince. She didn't have to have Wanda's powers to know what was running through his head just then; it was a family that could have been his.

A sharp, painful ache cut through her as he spoke about his lost lady-love—a feeling a small, bitter part of her insisted was jealousy.

He inhaled deeply, his gaze falling to his shoes again. But he didn't ask her to go. And as the moment lengthened without him indicating he wanted her to leave? She got the distinct sense that he didn't want to be alone.

That her quiet company helped. It was a comfort she was only too willing to provide. And she was finally able to raise a hand to touch him, her hand smoothing gently across his back in sympathy as she crossed the stairwell to lean against the rail next to him.

They stood there, together, in silence for a long time.


	94. Chapter 19

**London, England**

**Spring 2016**

Honestly, Nadine was still surprised that Steve had looked genuinely…grateful wasn't quite the right word. He'd also been surprised and even relieved, if she could believe her own assessment, to see her sitting next to Sam as he returned to his seat having fulfilled the first part of his duty as one of Peggy Carter's pallbearers.

She hadn't expected that. Not exactly. She'd expected perhaps a measure of gratitude, of course, but nothing like the mix of emotions surfacing amid the absolutely gutted expression she'd seen on his face as he'd helped carry Peggy into the church.

And she hadn't been able help but lay her hand on the back of his shoulder as he'd taken his seat next to her, needing to at least try and offer some measure of unspoken comfort. She hoped it helped. The tiny smile he'd spared her as the priest had stepped forward to start the service seemed to indicate as much.

After their long moments in the stairwell, Steve had excused himself for some understandable time alone. It had been nearly a day before he had re-emerged from his solitude, approaching Nadine and Sam in her workroom as they'd been strategizing and debating over the best safehouses to investigate next.

It had actually hurt to hear him so casually suggest that, if Sam came with, the two of them could investigate the defunct safehouse Nadine had flagged in London in nearly the same breath that he'd brought up being asked to serve as a pallbearer during the funeral. Her own breath had actually hitched and, once Steve had again retreated to make arrangements, Sam had met her gaze with a distinctly troubled look. Nadine had only been able to sigh sadly. Instinctively, she'd known without even having to draw on her long-ingrained skills to deduce what he'd really wanted almost the instant he'd suggested Sam should come with.

He hadn't wanted to be alone.

And, bewilderingly, it had stung a little that he'd immediately turned to Sam. Not that she couldn't understand the logic just as she knew her involuntary reaction was irrational. Not only was he the reasonable choice in that Sam wasn't wanted around the world, but the former paratrooper was arguably Steve's closest friend besides Natasha. It had been little surprise that Sam had immediately agreed to Steve's suggestion—though, it had been perfectly clear Sam intended to go along had he been invited or not, Nadine remembered with a small smile.

Then Steve had looked to Nadine.

And the sting of rejection had promptly shifted to one of shame at the distinctly apologetic gleam in his eyes.

She looked up to Steve as they all resumed their seats as the last strains of the opening hymn fell silent. And her heart broke for him. He looked absolutely devastated for all that he looked resigned. His jaw was tense, his eyes were dull and red and it was all Nadine could do not to reach out to him again.

She still couldn't quite rationalize why she'd felt so strongly that she needed to come. Just like she couldn't quite make sense of why Steve had been so pleased to see her. Natasha she might have understood. She was Steve's closest friend—arguably closer even than Sam was—and had been for a while now.

Not to mention her little sister was better at this sort of thing.

Yet it was Natasha who was sitting tucked off at the back of the sanctuary, there having been only enough room left for one of them to join Steve and Sam up near the front.

And here  _she_  was, sitting next to Steve as the Priest led the assembled mourners in remembrance and prayer that opened the funeral service.

Not that she wanted to be anywhere else.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She felt distinctly out of place, like she didn't entirely belong among the people assembled to grieve for someone they'd known and loved. She hadn't known Peggy Carter. She respected and even admired what she'd heard of the woman, but she felt like an outsider. An observer only. She didn't even have the distinction of being a former agent of the organization Peggy had helped found…quite the opposite, if fact, if one was being technical. Nadine didn't belong. She had no emotional connection to the woman.

Save through Steve. She was there for Steve. Though she felt odd for her presence when it came to Ms. Carter, when it came to Steve? She was where she felt she needed to be.

She might have herself—mostly—convinced that there was no reasonable hope for a future or anything more than friendship between them—or so she was still working on, limited as her success was proving—but that didn't mean she didn't still care for him. There was no way in hell she wouldn't be there if he needed her to be. Even if he hadn't been there for her, she cared about him too much to let him go through something as painful as this alone. She knew all too well how much harder everything was alone.

Steve had been one of the ones to help her realize that.

It was a nice enough service, though admittedly Nadine wasn't paying as much attention as she probably should be. Not subtly watching Steve out of the corner of her eye as she was. He barely looked up, listening even as he stared sightlessly at the hymnal in front of him where it was tucked into its niche.

And she warred with herself if it would be overstepping to reach out and take his hand. It would just be to provide comfort, so there shouldn't be any harm, right?

But it was a liberty she shouldn't take another part of her warned. It warned that, while she considered him a friend and he her, that did not mean it was appropriate to just grab at him, even if the aim was to provide comfort.

She was so focused on Steve and her own internal battle that she nearly started when Sam nudged her just hard enough that her shoulder bumped Steve's. Nearly.

Frowning, she glanced to Steve as he looked to her, his own brow creasing slightly before they both looked to Sam.

And Sam nodded subtly up to the pulpit, where Ms Carter's niece—great-niece? She looked too young to be just a niece—Sharon Carter was starting off the eulogies.

Nadine's frown deepened, not understanding why Sam felt the need to direct Steve's attention to the young woman collecting herself to start speaking. At least until Steve stiffened in surprise next to her.

Glancing back to the Captain, she understood. She could see it written clearly on his face. He knew her. And he hadn't expected to see her.

And as Nadine noticed the way Steve was looking up at Sharon, she was suddenly painfully aware of an unsettled, constricting pressure deep in her chest. A feeling that felt uncomfortably like disappointment and dismay.

It took another moment and her jaw involuntarily tensing as Sharon Carter met Steve's eye and smiled subtly at him that Nadine recognized what it was.

Jealousy.

And she was immediately scolding herself for the reaction, firmly fighting it back.

Of all the ridiculous, inappropriate—ill-timed—juvenile reactions to have…she had no claim over him, so what right did she have to be jealous? What business was it of hers that Sharon Carter was obviously interested, or that there were traces of a mutual interest in the man sitting next to her.

Worse was the thread of longing tied into the uncomfortable dejected feeling trying to grow in her, tugging at it and her both.

Steve was not hers, she reminded herself harshly, and he was perfectly free to show interest in another woman. He deserved to have someone.

It took far more effort than she would've liked to keep her hands from fisting and her breathing steady. And that wasn't even counting the effort it took to ignore the irrational impulse to storm up there and make sure the other blonde understood in no uncertain terms that Steve was off-limits, the idea proving far more distracting than she was comfortable with.

Not to mention how embarrassing it felt to know the faint prickling she felt behind her eyes meant what it did, no matter how she pointedly willed away the irritable sensation.

It hurt to realize that another woman was free to go after him where she was not…just like he was free to pursue other women…she shoved the thoughts unceremoniously away.

Instead, she forced herself to ignore the intent way Steve listened and watched the pretty blonde as she spoke, instead turning her focus to what Sharon Carter was saying…even if Sharon was looking to Steve more than almost anyone else in the assembled crowd filling the church.

But as the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's eulogy continued, the feeling faded in the face of the pain and sorrow that soon shadowed Steve's normally open features once more, his face veiled and pensive.

She couldn't help herself any longer.

She reached out and took his hand.

And a measure of relief warmed in her chest and the irritating jealous sensation faded when some of the tension left his shoulders and he gripped her fingers firmly back, all but clinging to the silent comfort she offered.

And despite herself, Nadine found herself drawn into what the younger woman was saying, the feeling of Steve's fingers curled around hers soothing in a way she knew it shouldn't have been. Not if she had been as successful in banishing her traitorous feelings for the man as she'd been convincing herself she had been.

Not to mention the faint—and embarrassing, considering the lack of self-control it indicated—feeling of pleased satisfaction that fluttered in her chest when she noticed Sharon Carter had caught sight of their joined hands.

That aside, what the younger woman was saying was nevertheless compelling, and even after she stepped down to make way for the eulogies that followed, regardless of the way a corner of her mind still watched Steve, Nadine's found herself contemplating the words of advice Peggy had passed on to her niece.

_Compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move... it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say 'No, you move.'_

Nadine had never been one to weigh her actions by what was right or wrong. Conviction had been a luxury she hadn't been able to afford for most of her life. Not that she didn't have her moments. She supposed her devotion to her daughter could count, but that felt…different, somehow. Devotion to another person's health and happiness was something else altogether. It wasn't the quite same as believing in a code and sticking to that belief come what may.

Though, there were parallels, she supposed.

Feeling the way Steve's hand unconsciously flexed minutely beneath hers or noticing the way his eyes had brightened in contemplation at the younger Ms Carter's words, she just knew the advice from his lost love resonated with him. And she supposed, on some level, they resonated with her too. They left her thoughtful and feeling peculiarly deficient yet determined at the same time.

It was a strange feeling.

Certainly something unpack at length another time.

There was no denying the younger Ms Carter was every bit as strongly principled and clever as her Aunt Peggy was said to have been. Or that she very much admired her Aunt and intended to make her and her legacy proud. It was clear in every word she spoke

It was admirable…much to Nadine's private chagrin. A small, petty part of her had just wanted to dislike the younger woman.

Nadine had never had that. Never had someone she looked up to the way Sharon Carter admired her Aunt.

She wondered what it was like…she wondered how her life might have been different had she had someone like Peggy Carter in her life to look up to the way Sharon had. Someone to believe in her, to guide her, to support her.

To love her.

A maternal figure.

And, as the funeral progressed and next to her Steve grieved for his lost love and the life he might have had, Nadine found herself grieving for the beloved mentor she'd never had.

All the while taking comfort in the warmth of Steve's hand in her own, her thumb unconsciously brushing over his knuckles as she listened with half an ear to the rest of the service.

She only let go as the priest intoned the final blessing and gestured for the pallbearers to rise and once more take up the flag-draped casket for its final journey on to the cemetery.

It was a loss she was acutely aware of.

With the service over, the church emptied with little in the way of urgency. The reception wasn't due to officially begin until the family returned from the interment, so the rest of the gathered mourners gathered in the narthex to mingle. And as the funeral had been well attended, the crush quickly became nearly too much, people exiting the sanctuary much quicker than they exited the church proper.

And before Nadine knew it, in her attempt to track down her sister, she was separated from Sam, the mingling mourners pulling them in different directions.

So it was that Nadine found herself nestled off to the side part way up the steps that led to the sanctuary, her keen eyes surveying the crowd for her companions.

It wasn't hard to pick Steve out as he re-entered the narthex despite the growing press of the gathered mourners. Nor was it difficult to track his path as he carefully edged his way through the crush of people.

Only to grin with bemusement as a pair of older gentlemen—former agents, judging by their bearing—waylaid the Captain. Undoubtedly former associates of Peggy's, she mused, possibly even agents trained by Peggy, judging by their ages. Likely wanting to meet the legendary soldier their mentor had worked with during the War, to hear what she'd been like as a young SSR agent.

Or maybe they just wanted to meet the famous Captain they'd idolized as children; they certainly looked the right age.

With an eye still on Steve, she resumed her search for Natasha. She knew her sister was going to have to leave soon if she wanted to make it to Vienna in time for the Ratification of the Accords, but she also knew her sister wanted to see Steve before she left. Now that Nadine knew where Steve was, making sure Nat found him was her next objective.

"Hey." Nadine turned at Sam's soft greeting, taking in the faintly concerned cast of his features. "Did you see him come back in?"

Nadine nodded. "Yeah, he's over—" she turned back to where Steve had been stopped, catching sight of the two older gentlemen agents…but not Steve. She blinked for a moment in momentary surprise. For such a large man, Steve really was surprisingly stealthy. She hadn't even noticed him slip away.

It was no matter, though. His path before he'd been stopped had been clear enough. As had the expression on his stoic features.

He'd wanted some time alone.

"I'll find him," she assured Sam softly, brushing a hand against Sam's elbow in thanks as she edged past him. "I have an idea where he is."

Sure enough, as she'd suspected, Steve had made his way back into the sanctuary. And she hadn't been the only one to take note of his retreat, it seemed. As Nadine slipped through the elegantly glassed doors into the peaceful quiet of the sanctuary, she caught sight of her sister speaking quietly with Steve near the front pews. Even without having to edge close enough to hear what they were saying she had a feeling she knew what they were discussing. The grave, even resigned look on Steve's face coupled with the nearly apologetic yet determined expression on her sister's was more than enough.

The Accords. And likely who on the Team had signed.

Her suspicions were confirmed as Nadine edged further into the sanctuary, their murmured words carrying enough within the comparative silence of the room that she could hear some of what was being said even from several rows away and could fill in the rest.

Nadine sighed. It was a discussion she wasn't keen on getting drawn into again. Her sister and even Stark had already tried several more times to get her on board, both likely hoping that she could help influence Steve and the other holdouts. A flicker of annoyance at her sister emerged as she listened the partially indistinct murmurs passing between the two Avengers. This was not the right time for this. It was Steve's time to mourn and part of her couldn't quite believe her sister had brought the Accords up.

Unless, of course Steve had brought it up. She bit back another sigh. Of course he had. She really was slipping; there was nothing in Steve's body language to indicate he was defensive in a way that would suggest Natasha had pushed the topic. If anything, the cues she could see in him and in her sister suggested he was looking for a distraction and Natasha had been reluctant to give it at first before conceding. Well, talk about the Accords would certainly fulfill the criteria.

Natasha paused then, glancing briefly toward Nadine where she hung back to give them their space as Steve's head bowed in response to her offer to come with to Vienna. "Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path," Natasha said softly as she looked back to Steve, Nadine only just able to make out what she was saying from her spot near the back of the sanctuary. Nat smiled as she stepped closer to Steve, her expression faintly pleading and even desperate despite the almost unconcerned way she spoke, "staying together is more important than how we stay together." Nadine inhaled slowly, all annoyance with her sister fading. The Avengers were her sister's family. Of course Natasha would do whatever she thought would help keep her family together.

But for all that he looked suddenly remorseful, there was no denying what Steve's response would be. It was written in the way his jaw tensed as he looked away from Natasha. Nor did Natasha seem in the least surprised.

"What are we giving up to do it?" Steve asked gently in response, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it."

Natasha grinned softly at how truly apologetic he sounded. "I know." There was no disappointment in her sister's voice. Just acceptance. Steve just watched her, not quite sure what to make of the admission or her reaction.

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked. Natasha's smile grew sad.

"I didn't want you to be alone," she offered softly, only to pause and glance toward Nadine again, "neither of us did," she added gently. A small, inadvertent smile tugged Steve's lip as he too glanced to Nadine. Nadine smiled back and, despite an equally strong instinct to keep giving them their space, Nadine finally gave in and began to edge toward them.

"Thank you, Nat," he said softly, a wealth of emotion in his voice as he looked back to her sister. Smiling softly with a sympathy too pure for words, Natasha reached out and pulled Steve into a tight hug. Nadine had to look away, emotion tremoring in her chest at the way Steve's jaw clenched as her sister drew him close or the way he clung to her as another wave of grief threatened to overwhelm him.

And she couldn't help but lay her own hand against his back as she came to stop beside them, adding her own gesture of comfort, ignoring the urge to pull him into a hug of her own, part of her insisting a mere touch wasn't enough.

But the look of pure gratitude and something else she couldn't quite place that flashed in his eyes as he looked to her once he and Natasha pulled apart said otherwise. As did the way he squeezed her fingers as her hand dropped to take his in silent support.

Straightening, Steve cleared his throat, looking back up toward the altar, his gaze distant as it fell on the portrait of Peggy.

"You should probably get going," he said softly, "I'll just be another minute." Easily understanding the unspoken plea, the sisters nodded and retreated back toward the exit, Nadine only pausing to spare Steve a concerned look before falling into step next to her sister.


	95. Chapter 20

**London, England**

**Spring 2016**

 

“You ready?” Natasha asked softly as they approached the doors leading out of the sanctuary to the narthex. Glancing back to Steve where he stood gazing up at Peggy’s portrait, Nadine slowly shook her head.

“No,” she answered, her voice just as low, “I’m going to stay here.”

Natasha’s smile was knowing as she stopped next to the intricately glassed doors, turning to face Nadine. “You were never planning on coming on to Vienna, were you.” It wasn’t a question. Nadine knew her sister had suspected as much before they’d even left the Compound. But neither had said anything. Natasha mercifully hadn’t questioned her when she spotted Nadine waiting next to the Quinjet, nor had she pressed when Nadine said she wanted to come along. She hadn’t even commented beyond an understanding smile when Nadine’s response to her pointing out she was intending stop in London on the way to Vienna had been a simple ‘I know.’

Nadine shook her head. “No, _lisichka_. We both know that would be a terrible idea. I’d no sooner step up to Security then I’d be arrested. Your guest or not.” Natasha raised a challenging brow, smirking mischievously.

“We could make your case,” she offered lightly, her eyes betraying that she knew it was wishful thinking. “Lots of influential people to make a case for pardon to? Being willing to sign would certainly be a big point in your favour. Not to mention the bonus of having the Avengers as character references.” Nadine smiled, reaching out to squeeze her sister’s hand. Wishful thinking or not…it was a nice fantasy to indulge in, even if only for a few moments.

“I appreciate the thought,” she said fondly. Nadine knew the consequences of the life she’d lived, willing or not. She could bear it. She had long accepted her reality. Natasha’s light expression grew grim and entreating.

“I don’t want to lose you too,” Natasha said softly, “and signing—as a step of good faith, it might—” Nadine sighed heavily, her eyes sliding shut as her hand rose to massage her temple. As nice a thought as it was, they both knew it was an impossible hope.

“Natalia, don’t,” Nadine cut in sharply. “I know you understand. I know you know better. Just…don’t.” Natasha’s lips thinned but she nodded her agreement.

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” she said emphatically, almost dismissively. Nadine’s lip twitched and she raised a brow at her sister. She was still intending to fight, and that cheered Nadine more than she expected.

Not that it changed anything…

“And you think I do?” she countered softly. Natasha didn’t quite manage to hide her wince, her expression growing apologetic. Nadine bit back a sigh. “We’ve been through this, Natalia,” she continued wearily, only barely keeping her own regret to herself, “You know very well that I can’t…that the chances of the anyone overlooking… I’m not an Avenger. I’m an assassin. And even if I could? It’s too dangerous to sign,” she concluded firmly as she looked back up at her sister, “for me and especially for Nina.” Natasha sighed, looking to Nadine with a nearly admonishing expression.

“Nadine, you’re _both_ Enhanced, you and Nina.” Nadine’s gut churned uncomfortably at the reminder that her daughter was indeed technically Enhanced and had been since the day she was born thanks to Nadine and Barnes, but she didn’t quail beneath her sister’s scrutiny. Natasha’s tone grew faintly exasperated as she continued, not giving up despite knowing Nadine wasn’t about to budge, “whether you like it or not, whether you’re an Avenger or not, the Accords still apply to both of you.” Natasha but back a sigh, looking sightlessly through the stained glass of the door. “It’s just…there has to be a way to make this work. To…to keep what we’ve got going. I mean,” she hesitated, battling to cut herself off even if she ultimately lost, looking back to Nadine with nearly pleading eyes, her frustration with their whole situation painfully clear, “under the Accords? It’d be bringing the Team back to what it was under S.H.I.E.L.D., only this time under the UN. It’s not like they would be taking away our autonomy altogether. Steve has to see that.” Nadine bit back a dismayed groan.

“What happened with S.H.I.E.LD. burned you all. Badly. Especially Steve. Is it really surprising he’s reluctant to risk what happened there again? Especially knowing that the people he’d be answering to have the potential to think like Ross? That one of them will be Ross?” They’d found out the day before that Ross had indeed been appointed to the committee charged with overseeing the Avengers; a troubling development, to be sure, one that even Tony was leery of, even shaken by. She finally did sigh. “There simply might not be a way to make this work, _licishka_. And…I think that’s what Steve sees.” Nadine finished simply, sounding far more sad and resigned than she would’ve liked. “And for me? It’s better for everyone if The Ghost just retires and disappears.” Natasha studied her thoughtfully before stepping closer, her voice lowering as she reach out to squeeze Nadine’s arm.

“Just think about it, please?” Nadine met her sister’s eye, taking in the silent plea that echoed her spoken appeal. Mutely, she nodded, even though they both knew her mind wasn’t likely to change.

Inhaling deeply before letting out a low, controlled breath, Natasha smiled wanly as she reached for the doors and let them both out of the sanctuary into the landing at the top of the wide, shallow stairs that lead down to the narthex.

The narthex was far less crowded than it had been, the gathering of mourners finally beginning to move off to make the journey over to the hotel hall where the reception was scheduled to take place. Natasha looked to Nadine as she slipped through the open door the redhead held, her hand still on the brass handle before looking back to Steve.

He still hadn’t moved. Natasha nodded toward him.

“You’re going to stay with him, then?” Natasha asked, her voice carefully pitched to keep from carrying even as she let the door shut with a soft click behind them. Nadine’s eyes narrowed as she picked up on a particular thread to her little sister’s tone.

“Yes,” she said simply, careful to moderate her volume just as her sister had. Natasha quirked a questioning eyebrow at her, her lip curling slightly. Nadine restrained the urge to roll her eyes.

“Steve’s in no shape emotionally to go House Hunting,” she continued instead, ignoring her sister’s bemused expression…an expression that had little to do with the term they’d started using several months ago now to refer to their safehouse searches, “besides, this one’s a long shot, anyway. Sam and I will check it out and clear it.” She paused, sobering as she looked back to Steve again despite the panels of coloured glass partially obscuring her view. Picking up on the change in Nadine, the impish glint in Natasha’s eye faded slightly. Nadine spared her sister a faint, wan look.

“Steve needs today,” Nadine continued sedately once she’d gathered her thoughts, “he needs to say goodbye properly with—” she faltered for a split-second as her eye fell on Sharon Carter down in the narthex proper, greeting people as she made her way through the crowd toward the door where the family and closest friends were gathering to head off for the private interment service, “—people who knew her.” Anyone else would’ve missed it, but Nat picked up on her pause instantly, easily picking out the source among the crowd. A knowing glint lit in her little sister’s eye. Nadine kept her face carefully neutral despite the sting in her chest. Nat levelled her with a carefully searching look.

“She’s nice,” Natasha said mildly, a knowing smile curving her lips, “and they were circling each other for a little while…but I don’t think she’s who he’s looking for anymore.” Nadine inhaled deeply, letting her gaze fall back on the younger blonde as she slipped out the main door of the church with the rest of her family. What was the point in denying it anymore…it was getting harder and harder to deny it to herself, after all. Perhaps it was time to be open with her sister on this…

“It’s nice to think so, _lisichka_ ,” Nadine said softly, sparing her sister a small, resigned smile, “but it’s a hollow dream. There’s too much…history.” She could tell the instant Natasha understood what Nadine had left unsaid, a nearly painful sympathy taking over her features. Yet her eyes still glinted determinedly, regardless.

“Nadya,” Natasha objected fondly, her voice nevertheless firm even as her grin grew faintly sly, “we both know there’s something there…and it’s not history.”

Nadine didn’t respond. What could she say? She’d said it all and she knew her sister understood for all that she was being stubborn about it. But she also knew her sister. On this? Pragmatic as she usually was, Natasha was a romantic at heart and she was besotted with her idea of Steve and Nadine together. But eventually she would come to see reason.

Or so Nadine had to hope…

Her sister’s obvious approval was making denying her own feelings on the matter harder still than it already was…

And that wasn’t even mentioning Natasha’s slowly renewing veiled hints and innuendos. Or the fact that Nina was still in on Natasha’s matchmaking mission. She had to hope it would eventually lose its shine, and Nat and Nina both would realize it was little more than wishful thinking.

But if they didn’t? The little part of her that cared far more for Steve than she should would eventually win out over her rational side that knew it was inappropriate and foolish to want anything more than friendship.

She was not the girl she had once been, losing her head as her body reacted to another’s appeal. Sure, in the years since the Red Room, she had felt her fair share of attraction to other men—and even indulged once in a while—she was a grown woman with needs, after all. But it was always on her own terms. She had learned to control her urges. She could even all but turn them off, now, she’d learned so well. Will them away if they were inconvenient or ill-timed.

But that level of control was starting to prove more and more deficient around Steve as time passed.

Around him, it was like no matter how her mind and will strove to exert its control, her body—and what a tiny, ridiculous, romantic part of her insisted was her soul—was drawn to him as far more than just a friend.

And that draw was fast starting to feel stronger than her control. Or at the very least more persistent.

And she didn’t know what scared her more about the idea of that draw eventually winning out; the possibility of rejection…or that Steve might actually care for her too.

But she pushed all thought of it aside. Especially at the equally sympathetic yet mischievous look currently dancing in her sister’s eyes.

After a moment, Natasha looked away, surveying the thinning collection of mourners.

“I should get going,” she said briskly, glancing to Nadine once more, all trace of her nearly impish demeanor of a moment before gone. “Tell Steve—” she hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Tell Steve that I’ll be testing the water.” Nadine could only nod. And with a small smile and a brush of her hand on Nadine’s arm, Natasha was descending down to the narthex, pausing only to speak softly to Sam.

Nadine fought back the urge to frown thoughtfully, and not because of how close her sister and Sam were standing or the way his hand was brushing the small of Natasha’s back in a rather familiar and unconscious manner.

Testing the water… that could mean so many things. She knew where her mind wanted to go with it, considering what she and Natasha had been arguing about, but since it was a message meant for Steve? She was less certain, though she had a few ideas.

That was beside the point just now, though. With the mourners moving off to the reception, she and Sam would be slipping away to check the potential defunct safehouse she’d pinpointed just outside London while Steve took his time and mourned alongside everyone else who’d known Peggy Carter.

But first, she needed to check in with Steve. And on him, if she was being honest with herself. It was affecting her far more than she had anticipated to see him hurting so much. It was almost a physical ache, not unlike the pain she felt seeing Nina hurt or Natasha. An ache that came with caring for him far more than she knew she should.

Brushing the thought forcefully aside, as she watched Natasha take her leave out the main doors of the church, Nadine let herself quietly back into the sanctuary.

Steve was still up near the altar, leaning against the end of the front pew opposite the side of the church where Peggy’s portrait still sat. It was a beautiful church. Peaceful, really, the lighting subdued and natural as it streamed in through the exquisitely crafted stained glass to paint subtle mosaics across the pews. It was a peace Nadine almost feared to break. But quiet as Nadine tried to be to keep from disturbing him, he still heard her, his head tilting faintly in her direction.

“Natasha’s off?” Steve asked quietly without even looking over as Nadine walked up. Unconsciously she nodded.

“Off to Vienna to ‘test the waters,’ as she said,” Nadine confirmed. Steve’s brow twitched, a frown nearly appearing before it cleared and the gravity of his mood returned. A gravity that, judging by the thoughtful, conflicted emotions flickering within his shadowed expression, wasn’t just born of grief. It was about more than just losing Peggy, Nadine realized.

The Accords and the future of the Avengers was wearing on him too.

“Maybe you should sign,” Nadine said softly. Steve turned to her, brow creased with confusion. “Nat does have a point, Steve. If you’re part of the Accords, you’ll still have influence. If you don’t you’ll be shut out altogether. The Accords aren’t intended to dictate your actions the way we’re fearing—there’s no certainty that would ever happen—just to demand justification and oversight when the Avengers do take the field.” A faint, wry smile tugged at her lips. “Besides who’s to say they won’t all be bending the rules anyway. I mean, Stark? It’s his greatest talent, twisting the rules to suit him or disregarding them altogether and talking his way out of it once he’s done. A few months with the Accords and he’ll be back wreaking havoc by doing his own thing like his old self, I’m sure.” Steve mostly returned her amused grin, nearly chuckling at the assessment of his semi-retired teammate even as Nadine laid a hand against his bicep. It was nice, the contact, and she felt something in her chest loosen at the feel of some of the tension in his arm easing beneath her palm.

Finally he sighed, glancing searchingly at her. She cocked her head slightly, eyes sharpening in anticipation of his question. “Does that mean you’re reconsidering your decision not to sign?”

Nadine let out a slow, heavy breath, withdrawing her hand to brush a strand of her pale hair out of her face before crossing her arms loosely before her. A flicker of irritation re-emerged at the question, her lingering annoyance with her sister over bringing up that very issue again very nearly causing her to scowl. But almost at once the feeling faded. Steve was probably the only person who hadn’t asked her about her decision yet. He’d been dealing with his own issues, so how was he to know that everyone else had been all but pestering her over her decision. And bizarrely, she found she didn’t really mind him asking. She knew for all that he was obviously gauging her, he still meant well.

“No,” she finally said softly, leaning against the end of the pew across from him with a small smile. “Avenging isn’t my life. The world doesn’t need me running around pretending to be a hero…not when they have you.”

“And if I like having you watching my back?” Nadine’s eyes widened, her breath catching at the soft, almost imploring tone of Steve’s confession.

“Steve, I—” it was barely more than a whisper, the rest catching in her throat before a single, unexpected word blurted out: “Why?”

He didn’t answer, though he inhaled as though he wanted to. He just watched her, his features oddly unreadable. She swallowed thickly but pasted a half-hearted grin on her face despite the way her heart seemed to be stuttering and her stomach fluttering like a host of butterflies had taken up residence.

“I—I’m not planning on going anywhere,” she finally said, unable to quite meet his eye, especially considering how unsteady her voice suddenly sounded. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself and forcing her voice and her demeanor back under control. “But…I meant it when I said the Ghost has to retire for good this time. I’ll still help with training or support or whatever it is you need me to do back at the Compound—off the books if need be—but even if I wanted to,” she paused, her gaze falling to focus sightlessly an inch to the right of her sensible nude heels. After a moment she looked back up to him, a small, resigned smile tugging at her lips, “I can’t sign. Consulting under the table is one thing. That I can do. Same with continuing my search for Barnes. But…but field work? As much as I might like to—I can’t. Not without violating the Accords and risking the Team to do it. And if I were to try and sign so I could, my place at the Compound, with the Team? It would end, Steve. There’s no guarantee they won’t come to arrest me the instant I did,” she pointed out dryly, her grin growing strained. “My crimes aren’t as easy to ignore as the rest of the Team’s…mostly because mine are genuine crimes. I won’t spend the rest of my life in a box.” Steve shifted, glancing back toward Peggy’s portrait with a wince, and she knew he’d only just realized he’d forgotten just how she was different from the Avengers. She sighed, straightening to cross the aisle to lean against the pew next to him.

“I…I don’t want to run anymore,” she admitted wearily. “I don’t want that be my life anymore. And if I were to sign…everything would come crashing down. For me…and for Nina. I can’t take the risk. I can’t risk my daughter like that. Nina and I won’t sign.” Silently he nodded, understanding and sympathy clear on his face as he grew thoughtful again, his gaze falling to his shoes much as hers had moments before.

And somehow she got the feeling like he’d heard everything she hadn’t said, or had very nearly said. How part of her did want to sign, especially if it meant she might be able to stay. How she very much wanted to continue on working with the Team…with him.

How nothing had felt quite so right as all but hearing him admit that he wanted her— _her_ —watching his back.

That, now that Nina was off at school, he was as much a reason for her to stay as Natasha or her mission…

And strangely enough, she hoped she wasn’t imagining the feeling. That he really had somehow understood everything she hadn’t said…and everything she simply couldn’t allow herself to say.

Finally he shifted, looking up as his arms crossed loosely across his chest.

“As much as I want to believe you and Nat are right…” he said before pausing, a heavy sigh escaping him, “as much as I want to believe that the Avengers can still do what we need to do within the bounds of the Accords, that they will work the way they are meant to? I just…I can’t.”

Nadine couldn’t help herself, and raised a wry brow at him. “Since when did you become so cynical, Steve Rogers.” The hint of a chuckle huffed out of his chest as the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Since the organization I thought I could devote my life to serving so I could help make the world better turned out to be a front for the organization I was willing to give my life defeating?” He countered sedately, causing her grin to fail. “Since I learned my best friend had been tortured, brainwashed and dehumanized, his very being stripped and stolen away?” He turned a shadowed, weary gaze to Nadine. “Since I learned the horrific things my friends endured all for the sake of evil men looking to find the perfect agent?” He sighed heavily, looking away. “It’s been building for a long time, Nadine.” She could understand that. He shifted again.

“You are right,” he said after a long moment. “If I were to sign, we probably could keep on doing what we need to do, to make the Accords work for us. To amend them when needed and bend the rules when we had to. And I did consider it. Really, I did. I thought about it a lot on the way here. Vision? Tony? Nat? They’re all right in that the Accords are not an option to be dismissed lightly. And I’m not refusing lightly. But…but even though they’re the easy way out? A compromise?” He looked to Nadine, conviction lighting in his eyes. “Sometimes compromising…sometimes it can be the wrong course just as giving up would be.” Once more Nadine felt her lip quirk of its own volition.

“Grow roots like a tree and say ‘no, you move’?” she asked with a fond, wry grin. The ghost of a chuckle escaped him.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said. She smiled up him, reaching out to lay her hand on his shoulder without thinking. Nor did she give it a second thought as he absently leaned into the touch, causing her hand to slide across his back until she was very nearly embracing him.

And for once the irritatingly rational part of her didn’t rear up with warning.

He was just looking for comfort, she rationalized, and she was a friend who could provide it. That was all. It was a gesture of comfort between one friend and another.

It had nothing to do with just how _right_ it felt.

They lapsed into silence, Steve’s gaze once more drawn to Peggy’s portrait, Nadine’s following, sightless, as she contemplated what he’d revealed instead of on what he’d done.

He’d been thinking of signing. That perhaps Natasha’s arguments and Stark’s and the others’ had merit. That maybe he should give a bit. But hearing Peggy’s words? Being reminded of her conviction and her devotion to doing the right thing? Of the values that he himself held dear?

It had bolstered his resolve to do what he felt was right.

And though she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about what that decision would mean, she couldn’t help the way her chest felt like it was about to swell with admiration and even a measure of pride. It was a very conflicting feeling.

After another few moments, he inhaled deeply, straightening and standing from his stance leaning against the pew, pulling away from her with what seemed uncannily like reluctance. Nadine’s hand fell back to her side. She refused to acknowledge the disappointed twinge in her chest. Turning, Steve looked to Nadine with a small, resolved smile.

“You and Sam should probably get going,” he said, holding a hand out to her. Before she could think about it, she took it, letting him pull her up from her similar pose leaned against the pew next to his. She gave him a considering look.

“We hadn’t mentioned that idea to you yet,” she pointed out. The corner of his mouth quirked with a silent chuckle as he raised a brow of his own at her.

“It wasn’t hard to figure that you were probably going to suggest it,” he said wryly before sobering, his expression turning grateful. “And it…it means a lot to me. Thank you.” She smiled, looking down to their hands; he hadn’t let hers go, just as she hadn’t his. She raised her other hand to cover his, enclosing his as much as her smaller hands could even as his other hand rose too, tenderly curling over hers. Her breath hitched as she met his eye.

“You’re welcome,” was all she could say softly in response.

The very air between them seemed to grow tense then, like an energy, a draw was intensifying. Something stronger than the feeling of _right_ of mere moments before. Her heart beat just a touch faster as his eyes, so laden with sadness as they had been since he’d found out about Peggy, grew warm and considering as he looked down at her, beginning to lean closer. His thumb grazed absently over her knuckles, her skin tingling at the touch.

But then she blinked, and her long-ingrained instincts to be rational surging to life again, squashing back her longing to give into the feelings that she couldn’t deny were growing between them any longer.

Breaking eye contact, she subtly cleared her throat as she subtly leaned away. She ignored the sense of loss as she gently pulled her hands from his.

“You should probably think about heading over to the reception,” she pointed out, the waver in her voice betraying how unsettled she was. She refused to admit she was disappointed as she stopped herself from nervously adjusting the sleeves of her dark navy blazer or brushing non-existent lint from her slate grey skirt. As she looked back up to Steve he seemed…thoughtful, and a little bit…disappointed too? She almost faltered. He couldn’t possibly… “The…the family should be heading over soon too. You should probably be there.”  She nearly shook her head at the traitorous thoughts that tried to form at her observations. He wasn’t disappointed. He couldn’t be. It had to be from her reminder…the reminder of why he was here in London in the first place. She forced a reassuring smile to her face.

Clearing his throat much as she had, he nodded, matching her smile even if his was slightly more strained, his features once more strangely difficult to read.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, but…” his jaw tightened minutely. “But I feel like I should be coming with you and Sam.” Nadine shook her head gently, her smile growing sympathetic.

“You need to be here,” she insisted gently, laying a hand on his arm and ignoring the way she wanted to pull him close instead. “Take your time. Reminisce about Peggy. Sam and I will look into the Real Estate.” Sedately he nodded, his faint grin returning at the code term Sam had started regularly using the way they’d all started referring to their search as ‘House Hunting.’

With a final look to Peggy’s portrait, Steve turned and, Nadine falling into step beside him, they departed the sanctuary.


	96. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don't forget to catch up with Part II: Chapter 20 first if this is the first time you've checked in since last week! It went up early, after all! :)

**London, England**

**Spring 2016**

It was dusty, dingy and small and Nadine could positively feel the neglect haunting the little apartment clinging to her skin and clothes like a film. Or rather, the little flat, she reminded herself, considering they were in Britain; old habits of assimilation died hard. It had taken a conscious effort not to adopt a distinctly British cadence to her accent upon finding herself in London, the impulse to blend in still deeply ingrained.

Flat or apartment, terminology was beside the point. More importantly, the flat was empty. Nadine withheld a heavy sigh as she paced cautiously across the living space toward the little kitchen, her keen eyes carefully taking in every detail from the lifting, water-stained floorboards to the missing finial on the curtain rod above the window behind the moth-eaten, formerly green couch. A puff of dust was disturbed with each step of her deceptively functional black boots.

It was painfully obvious the flat was as defunct as a safehouse got and that it hadn't been used in years. Decades, even.

They were very clearly the first people to so much as step foot in this flat in a very long time.

Barnes wasn't here.

He never had been. Not even in passing. The dust and grime and stillness of the safehouse had been left undisturbed for far too long.

She fought against the way her breath tried to hitch in her chest.

It was another dead end. Just like the other two sites Nat and Sam had investigated. Exhaling slowly, she bowed her head for a moment, enforcing her composure. She'd known it was a long shot that Barnes would've even stopped over at this safehouse as compared to the others. He'd shown little inclination in what movements of his she had been able to discern to come so far north. But, it had fit her and Natasha's meticulous compilation of criteria perfectly, so they had decided to leave it on the list just in case.

Better safe than sorry, and all that.

Still, even having known it was unlikely he'd be here—she'd even said as much to Natasha—she had still hoped…

After all, there had been a chance.

"So you and Steve, huh?" Though it was said quietly enough, in the cloying stillness of the neglected flat, Sam's voice felt like a shout. Nadine tensed before she could help herself. Immediately, she was scolding herself for the reaction even as she glanced to the former paratrooper with an instinctively indifferent look. His open features gave surprisingly little away as he met her eye.

"And what's that supposed to mean," she prompted, attempting to sound disinterested as she looked away to step further into the flat. Troublingly, she wasn't entirely sure how successful she was.

"You heard me," he said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice and the trace of a cheeky grin on his lips. "C'mon, now, Ryker. Don't think I didn't see the way you two were holding hands during the service." She fixed him with another look, this one intended to make the point that she was neither convinced nor impressed.

"Holding hands, Sam?" she chided lightly. "What are you, twelve? It was his old girlfriend's funeral; the woman he's still in love with. You're reading too much into a simple gesture of support. I'd have done the same thing for you had you been in Steve's place," she dismissed with a careful measure of casual indifference. Yet, she could feel him watching her with skepticism. She absently brushed at the dust clinging to the sleeve of her jacket, the rich chocolate leather already seeming dulled just from walking through the abandoned apartment.

"Maybe," he ceded, "but after a moment we both would've let go. He didn't let go of you until the end of the service, when he had to get up at the end," Sam pointed out, his tone a curious mix of gentle teasing and subtle prompting. "And neither did you."

She answered with a noncommittal sound. She wasn't about to admit he was at least partially right.

Steve hadn't let her go, and she had been more than happy to leave her fingers curled with his, not matter that rationally she'd known she should have pulled away.

Especially given the moment between them later in the sanctuary…

He'd just needed the comfort, and she hadn't been able to deny providing it, she reminded herself firmly. It was nothing more or less than that. Especially not for him…could it?

She mentally shook the thought that it could've been out of her head. She couldn't allow herself to even hope for something like that. Certainly not today. There were times during their sparring sessions or the times when they were putting their heads together over the search for Barnes or Rumlow or some other objective the Avengers were working toward when she almost thought…but it was wrong. She had to be wrong. She had to stop letting that little part of her intent on believing it hope.

Today, especially. It was even more inappropriate than ever today. Not when the woman he'd loved first was being laid to rest…the woman he still loved, she suspected.

To Steve she was a friend only. He couldn't possibly see her as anything more. To let herself even hope as much was unwise and foolish. Besides, it was just a physical attraction she was reading too much into. It had to be. It was a trick of her mind and hormones and the fact that he had become one of the closest friends she'd ever had. There was nothing romantic.

Romance wasn't meant for people like her.

Especially when there was a history with his best friend in her past to further complicate everything….

She sighed, knowing perfectly well was futile to try and convince herself that all she felt for Steve anymore was just friendship. But she had to try. Especially after her moment of weakness when they'd been alone in the sanctuary after the funeral.

What else could she do?

"C'mon, Ryker," Sam pressed again, almost gentle still despite the mischievous glint in his eye as she spared him another impatient look, "you know it means something."

Oh, how tempting it was to throw out a quip about how close he seemed to be getting with her sister…unfortunately, true or not,Sam was smart enough to see through such a painfully obvious deflection…

"It doesn't," she countered instead, her voice nearly inflectionless. He cocked his head at her, the movement catching in the corner of her eye as she continued to survey the apartment. "Even if there was a chance at something?" she deflected, "he's still hung up on Agent Carter." Sam frowned skeptically, giving Nadine a searching look.

"Who, Peggy? Or Sharon Carter?" Nadine didn't respond, not even with a shrug or a noncommittal hum, pointedly ignoring the new but increasingly familiar twinge in her chest that came from thinking either about the SSR agent Steve had fallen in love with during the War or the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that there was obviously some history with. Sam made a sound that had Nadine frowning over at him. He was grinning almost indulgently. Nadine blinked.

"I think that's just an excuse…and I think you know it," he said. "Both of you do. He's moved on from Peggy and there isn't anything going on between him and Sharon…not that there was ever really anything between them in the first place. Just some flirting." Nadine was severely tempted to roll her eyes, her jaw clenching as she fought back the urge to snap back defensively. She forced herself to let it go. Picking at Sam's claim about Steve and Sharon would only come across as defensive.

"Peggy only passed away a few days ago, Sam," she responded instead, "we were just at her funeral. We both saw how affected he was; he still loves her," she said conclusively. He levelled her with a searching look, his expression, usually almost as open as Steve's often was, turning virtually unreadable. It wasn't often that she felt exposed, but even with her emotions carefully hidden behind her well-practiced mask, she felt like he could see right through her in that moment.

"And he's grieving for her, yeah," Sam admitted thoughtfully, the look he had levelled on her considering, "but he's not in love with her, I think. Not anymore. Not the same way he was then. I imagine he still loved her, but as…as the last link to his old life." She looked away, pointedly resuming her perusal of the flat, determined not to let him see how shaken she really was. How much his rather perceptive assessment allowed her to hope when she knew she shouldn't.

"That doesn't mean there's anything between us, Sam," she countered softly. He hummed, the sound making it clear he was very much not convinced. But she didn't respond further. To do so would only entrench his apparent belief that she and Steve had feelings for each other, or at least, that Steve returned the feelings she needed to convince herself to move past.

Natasha must've gotten to Sam too…

Forcing her thoughts back to the task at hand, Nadine couldn't help but sigh heavily as she looked around the sad, neglected little flat once more. A flat undoubtedly just like every other safehouse and apartment on their list. She could hardly bear to think that Barnes was likely living in a place like this.

Disappointment and dismay flooded through her, her whole body practically aching with it.

She fought back the heartache threatening to choke her, refusing to examine whether it was born from the reality of another empty safehouse or from her conflicted and problematic feelings for Steve. Possibly both…probably both. All she knew was that there was no benefit to letting any of it control her, save to let it torment her and weaken her resolve.

And she had no intention of letting her feelings do anything of the sort. Too much rode on her keeping her head and her reason. Steeling herself, she turned, glancing to Sam. "We're done. There's nothing here."

"You're sure," he asked, frowning with a distinct air of disappointment as he took one last look around. There was little question that he knew as well as she did that Barnes had never been here.

He'd just been hoping she'd caught something he'd missed.

"Yeah," she confirmed softly. "I'm sure."

Turning on her heel, she walked out of the flat, Sam close behind her.

Neither of them said a word as they returned to the rental car parked a half-block away. There was nothing to say. Their House Hunting expedition hadn't had the outcome they had both hoped for. What could they say? That had both wanted better news to bring back to Steve and they hadn't gotten it. Without a word, they both settled into the car, Nadine pulling out her phone to deactivate the broad-spectrum signal jamming app Natasha had installed to keep any electronic security measures the safehouse might have had from broadcasting that someone had entered the flat.

And as Sam started up the car and pulled out onto the street, muttering all the while about the insanity of driving on the wrong side of the road, Nadine noticed the voicemail indicator had appeared next to the call icon on her phone.

It was from Nina. And after the day she'd had so far, Nadine couldn't help but smile to herself at the comforting sound of her daughter's voice explaining she'd wanted to hear how the funeral and the mission had gone and that Nadine could call back whenever.

It was an offer Nadine was admittedly rather eager to take her daughter up on.

Almost as soon as the message ended, Nadine was closing out of her voicemail and typing in Nina's number at Sam's nod that he didn't mind.

"So Nina knows about Barnes?" His question had her thumb freezing just short of tapping the call symbol. Nadine looked to Sam, her heart suddenly in her throat.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, instinctively refusing to let it show that he'd caught her off-guard. He couldn't know about Barnes and Nina, could he? She knew she hadn't told him and she was fairly certain Steve hadn't either. She didn't think he knew or could have picked up enough to figure it out on his own. Had things gotten so close between him and Nat that her little sister had confided in him?

"About the mission to find Barnes," he clarified, "She asked how the mission was going in her message." He hesitated with a faintly apologetic glance to her, "I couldn't help but overhear. She knows too, then?" She let out an internal sigh of relief.

"Not entirely. Just that we were planning on taking care of a small mission in addition to attending the funeral," she said. She looked to the former paratrooper, assessing him. "She knows we're searching for someone and that it's sensitive. That's it. She doesn't know that many details." Both true and not true…and her gut twisted faintly with guilt.

Nadine was no longer quite so comfortable as she had been in keeping her secrets from the man. She liked to think of Sam as a friend, and it felt…wrong to keep this kind of secret from a friend. Especially one who had been helping her and Steve in their search for Barnes as selflessly as Sam had been.

It also didn't help that her secrets weren't sitting as well with her as they used to. She was honestly beginning to feel sick at having kept back part of the truth from Nina as she had after Sokovia, especially whenever her thoughts turned to Barnes. There had even been a moment—fleeting as it had been—where she had even felt a little guilty in keeping her secrets from Stark given all he had done for Nina.

Friend or not, she had a feeling that, once he eventually learned the whole truth, Sam would understand the need for secrecy—or risk Nat's wrath, she considered wryly—but that didn't help her deception sit as easily with her as it once had, necessary as she still believed it to be.

Sam nodded, seemingly satisfied. And Nadine, still faintly uncomfortable, pressed call.

Perhaps it was time to come clean to Nina about her father…to tell her the rest.

And she was so caught off-guard by the sudden thought and her bewildering acceptance of it that she nearly didn't hear Nina pick up.

"How was the funeral?" Nina asked cautiously once her cheerful greeting and Nadine's reply was done with.

Nadine was careful to keep herself from grimacing. Though obviously Nina couldn't see her reaction though a voice call, she was almost disconcertingly perceptive at times.

But mostly it was because Nadine wasn't alone. And she didn't want Sam to misinterpret; the funeral itself was fine—lovely, even, so far as funerals went—but herself she was less than impressed with.

"It was a nice service," she responded sedately. "Ms. Carter was a remarkable woman." There was a pause on the other end that had Nadine holding back a groan. Nina was contemplating how to try reassuring her, wasn't she.

Well, she didn't need it. The funeral hadn't been personal for her, so she didn't need consoling. And there was nothing between her and Steve beyond friendship and camaraderie so she didn't need reassurance on that front, either. No matter that she suspected her daughter might decide she needed it despite the way she and Natasha had both mostly backed off on their hinting and innuendoes and scheming to push Nadine and Steve together in the last couple months.

Had that ever been a relief, to have the two of them easing up on their attempted matchmaking shortly before Nina had gone off to school. Though it was still blatantly—even painfully—obvious that both her sister and her daughter maintained Nadine should be pursuing Steve and vice versa, apparent surrender nonwithstanding. There were still far too many pointed, considering and knowing looks and the odd oblique comment that 'unintentionally'—especially in Nina's case—slipped out for them to have given up completely.

"And how's Steve?" That wasn't what she was anticipating her daughter would say next, but it had Nadine mentally kicking herself. Of course Nina was going to be concerned about Steve. Nina had grown rather fond of the Captain, her hopes that Nadine would end up with him aside. Her heartache over Steve's pain when she'd heard about Peggy had been nearly tangible even over the phone when Nadine had passed on the news. She exchanged a glance with Sam, the former paratrooper's expression mirroring her own feelings.

"He needed the closure," Nadine answered after a moment of thought, "he's still grieving, obviously, but he's doing alright, all things considered. The funeral helped." A barely audible sigh reached her though the phone.

"Yeah, I imagine so," Nina agreed, a faintly odd quality to her tone that had Nadine frowning. "It can't be easy to lose someone like that, someone from…well, his life before, I suppose." Nadine sighed internally at the contemplative, nearly sad cast to her daughter's voice. "At least with Peggy he had a chance to see her again before…and then a chance to say goodbye." Nadine's frown deepened. If they hadn't already had a good long talk about it a couple months before, she might have thought this sudden morose cast to Nina's usually bright voice was related to the life she'd been forced to leave behind in Vienna. But deep in her gut, Nadine couldn't help but feel this was something…else.

"Nina, is everything alright?" Nadine asked softly, unable to shake the feeling that something was bothering her daughter. The faint sound of moving fabric—likely Nina shifting where she lay on her bed or the couch in her dorm's common room—reached Nadine over the phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nina said after a moment before letting out a small, huffing sigh. "I just…he sounded so down, you know? When I called him after you told me about Peggy? I've never heard him like that." Nadine sank back into her seat, her brow beginning to furrow faintly. There was still something…off about Nina's tone. But without seeing her face? It was hard sometimes to interpret people over the phone for just that reason. And right now? That was certainly the case. She simply couldn't tell what it was that was off.

So she decided to leave be. Whatever it was, if there even was something more bothering Nina, could wait for now. Soon enough she'd be back Stateside…and perhaps then she could take a trip up to Cambridge…

And she and Nina could talk. Really talk. In person. About all the things Nadine had promised she would tell Nina about. Her stomach flipped a little with nerves. But that was all. She still couldn't quite believe she wasn't more unsettled over the idea of finally telling Nina the rest of what she'd held back after Sokovia…especially about Barnes. As Nina continued, Nadine was forced to pull her thoughts back on track.

"Do you…do you think he's really okay, Mom?" Nadine sighed at the tentative question. Truthfully? Until today, until after the funeral, she'd been wondering the same thing.

Now, of course, she knew she needn't have worried. Steve would be fine. As he'd said in the past when the pair of them had discussed loss and tragedy, he had broad shoulders. He was already well on the way to shouldering Peggy's loss and continuing on.

"He's doing better,  _solnyshko_ ," Nadine reassured her. "Like I said, the funeral was good for him. And we were there for him. That helped too, I think." A small sound that might have been acceptance sounded in Nadine's ear.

"But are you with him now," Nina asked softly, sounding perilously close to accusing. Nadine nearly groaned. "You didn't leave him alone at the reception, did you? I know Nat was planning on going to that Vienna thing once the funeral was over—maybe…maybe you should've brought Steve along with you—"

"Nina," Nadine broke in firmly, unable to help the sad thread in her voice, "Steve's a big boy. He's coping just fine on his own. All he needs a little time to process and he'll be back to his usual self. And even though we're not with him, he's not alone either. Yes, he's at the reception without us, but he's also surrounded by a hundred other people who all loved and respected Peggy. It's the best place for him, right now." She pointedly pushed away the mental image of a particular blonde Carter who would also be there approaching Steve…talking with Steve…laughing with him. An interested, younger former agent with a far more uncomplicated past that Steve obviously also had some interest in. She shook the thought of Sharon Carter out of her head. It was none of her business. If anything, she should be happy that there was someone her  _friend_  Steve could maybe connect with…right?

Too bad the bitter, jealous little pulse in her chest refused to see it that way.

Nina hummed thoughtfully, not quite sounding wholly convinced. But it was enough that she seemed content to let it go.

Somewhat…

"At—at the reception…there aren't going to be any other women there, are there?" Nina asked tentatively, a mischievous thread returning to her voice. Nadine's lips thinned, a flicker of irritation waking her wicked side.

"I don't think now's the best time to try setting Steve up with someone,  _solnyshko_ ," Nadine responded as blandly as she could, pointedly ignoring the uncomfortable flip in her stomach at the idea.

It was hard enough trying to forget that Steve was quite possibly connecting with Sharon Carter even now, much less thinking that something could come of it. Especially as Sam pulled the car into the parking garage of the hotel where they were set to meet Steve…where the reception was being held…

"If by someone, you mean you?" Nina shot back dryly. "You know he'd be all over you if you gave him a chance, right?"

Nadine was nearly speechless with astonishment.

Nearly.

"Nina," Nadine warned, hoping the sudden waver in her voice wouldn't carry over the phone. Next to Nadine, Sam struggled to swallow back a bark of laughter even as he put the car into park and shut of the engine.

"What! It's a fair question. Just because you won't make a move on him doesn't mean no one else will," Nina quipped back boldly.

"Oh, for heaven's—Nicola," Nadine scolded, her stomach nevertheless quivering uncomfortably at the suggestion.

"I don't know," Sam broke in, causing Nadine to look to him so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash, "Agent Carter was looking pretty good. And she had her eye on Steve in the past." Nadine's eyes narrowed, levelling him with an admonishing glare. Sam just grinned roguishly before stepping out of the car. Her lips thinning, Nadine followed.

"Eavesdropping is rude you know," she quipped coolly to the former paratrooper over the roof of the car as she closed her door with a pointed thunk. Sam spared her a look, his dark eyes laughing.

"It's a small car. And you knew I'd be able to hear before you hit call," he answered with a grin.

Nadine huffed as Nina laughed on the other end of the line. "And you're pushing it, Nina," she added into the phone. At once Nina was attempting to choke back her laughter.

"Wait, is that Sam with you?" Nina managed to ask, her mirth fading into something that sounded an awful lot like confusion. "Did he come along with you and Aunt Nat?" Nadine blinked, confused for a moment before realization hit. Ah…Nina hadn't heard that Sam had gone along with Steve…or that Steve and Sam had originally been the ones intending to check out the London safehouse.

And since Nina knew Nadine had been planning to look into a potential lead on her father…this had the potential to become a messy conversation…

"He came over with Steve," she said carefully as she followed Sam into the hotel lobby, both of them immediately beginning to look around for sign of Steve, "and since Steve needed some time after the funeral, Sam and I went to look into the apartment together." As hoped, Nina almost immediately latched onto the mention of Nadine's mission over the fact that Sam was along on it.

"Oh! I'd almost forgotten," Nina said, sounding nearly apologetic. "How'd the mission go?" There was an anxious thread clear in her voice as she changed the subject. Nadine nearly chuckled despite her sudden bewilderment. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think Nina didn't care that Sam was involved in the search… She'd expected, well, something. Accusation, surprise, hurt, confusion. Maybe Nina was hiding it? She shook the thought away. It was something else that she could wait to unpack until she and Nina were face to face.

"More reconnaissance than a mission," she corrected absently, not bothering to mask her disappointment as she and Sam slipped into the hotel bar as the lobby proved empty, "and not as well as I had hoped."

"Oh," came Nina's small voice, just as down as Nadine suspected she had sounded. "Why? Was there noth—" Nadine frowned as Nina suddenly fell silent.

"Nina?"

"Mom?" Nadine's breath hitched at the quaver in her daughter's voice that most definitely hadn't been there before. "Mom, Aunt Nat's in Vienna for that Accords Summit thing, isn't she?" The feeling that something was wrong was suddenly clawing at her.

"What's happened, Nina," Nadine asked softly. It was a long, tense moment before Nina spoke, her voice uneasy and frightened.

"They just interrupted—it's Breaking News, Mom; there's been an explosion at the UN building in Vienna." It felt like ice was suddenly coursing through her veins. Nadine couldn't breathe, barely hearing what Nina said next as her phone unconsciously lowered from her ear.

Up above the bar, the very story Nina was talking about was playing across the TV. As the headline flashed across the bottom of the screen, it was as though Nina was reading it aloud, her voice tinny and distant.

"The Winter Soldier attacked the Summit."


	97. Chapter 22

**Cambridge, Massachusetts**

**Spring 2016**

As if she didn’t already have enough to fret about. Nina’s gut quivered anxiously as she ended the call with her mom, her eye automatically drawn back to the TV before she could stop it even as Nadine’s reassurances echoed in her ears, their faintly hollow quality having little to do with the distance of the phones that relayed them.

Her mom was shaken. And for good reason, Nina could admit. She was pretty shaken herself.

To hear there has been an attack on the UN summit in Vienna? The one where she knew her Aunt Nat was representing the Avengers at the official ratification of the Sokovia Accords?

Shaken seemed a mild term all of a sudden.

She shifted in her spot on the couch of her dorm’s common room, typing out a text to Natasha with trembling fingers before hugging her knees close as her attention fixed on the TV screen and its breaking news coverage. She felt like she was barely able to process what she was seeing.

Across the room, a pair of other freshmen were whispering intently to each other as they watched with wary, intrigued eyes. At the table behind the couches crowded around the TV, Jason—a boy from one of her intro courses she sometimes studied with—was hunched over his spread of books and laptops, though his hands hadn’t done more than move in an absent facsimile of work since the breaking news had flashed on while his head was tilted in the direction of the TV.

And more of her fellow first year students were beginning to trickle in, morbidly fascinated by the attack. Nina barely noticed.

It had already been a stressful enough last month or so. As if the normal stresses of school and assignments and labs and tests and being away from friends and family weren’t enough...

First the fallout from Lagos and how utterly devastated Wanda  _ still _ was—not that Nina could blame her—and how helpless Nina felt being stuck so far away. She’d only just been able to get Wanda to talk to her about it in the last few days. Though, considering how she’d felt hearing about what had really happened from her mom and Nat second-hand? She couldn’t say she was in the least bit surprised Wanda was taking it so hard.

It was like Ultron all over again.

At least, it felt that way to Wanda. 

Then there was how sullen and angry Pietro was, all the while hiding how scared and guilty he felt…at least she did seem to be able to help him a little, providing a sympathetic ear and letting him vent about it all. Not to mention the option to let him get his mind of everything in other, more pleasant ways.

Then there was the unrest over the Avengers. Lagos had been the ‘Last Straw,’ apparently. With the first shaky footage that had appeared, seeming to show either Steve engaging in little more than an all out brawl with Crossbones in the middle of a crowded market or Wanda throwing a fireball into a building? Even once the truth had come out, like that Wanda had been fighting to save everyone in the marketplace from a massive explosion by thinking as quickly as she had or that the Avengers had prevented Crossbones from making off with a biological weapon—not that the South African government was cooperating on that front, seeming to prefer to deny that Rumlow gotten that far in an attempt to mitigate embarrassment that he breached the facility despite security measures—the damage to the Avengers’ already shaken reputation had been done.

Nina hated that so many people were intent on heaping blame on Wanda. Her friend didn’t deserve it and it physically hurt to think of what Wanda was going through, knowing how she was bound to internalize it. And Pietro was nearly beside himself over it all, alternating between furious and despondent every time he had visited since the incident. He felt horribly guilty for not being there even if he had yet to explicitly say so.

Another girl from Nina’s study group, Gurpreet, sank onto the couch next to Nina, her dark eyes grave and uneasy as she glanced Nina. Try as she might, Nina couldn’t quite seem to manage even a small smile, the corner of her lip barely twitching but not quite lifting. Mercifully, Gurpreet said nothing, turning back to the TV and leaving Nina to her chaotic thoughts. The warm haze in her chest was not soothing her as well as it usually did.

Because her thoughts were chaotic, and this attack in Vienna wasn’t helping. Her eyes dropped to her phone and, even knowing it wasn’t likely to get her answers any faster, she sent out another anxious text to Natasha. Then another.

It had been bad enough after the incident in Lagos. To then hear the things the world media started to say about the Avengers after that? Especially Wanda? To hear the outcry that followed, both in the media and across her campus, against the Avengers?

It honestly made her feel sick.

And now there were the Accords too.

God, Nina didn’t know how to feel about them. It was a popular topic, with some arguing vehemently against, citing ethical concerns and human rights violations and others staunchly for, arguing it was crucial for public safety and peace of mind for everyone. And debates over it were almost constantly breaking out in the halls, in the labs, the library...everywhere. She couldn’t escape it. And thanks to that, arguments and opinions and facts and perspectives were swirling and clashing within her own head these days, a by-product of being part of a campus full of passionate, informed and intelligent young people. And no few professors.

The campus was practically buzzing over how a full out debate on the Accords had taken over one of the upper year lectures before spilling into the class that followed that had ultimately resulted in the two professors arguing heatedly over the ethics of the Accords and the Avengers and whether or not the Accords would do more harm than good.

Really, it was being talked about almost as much as Tony’s declaration from a few weeks before that all the graduate student projects were going to be funded by him, in full.

And that was saying something.

To say it was a divisive topic was an understatement. Especially because she found herself conflicted over which side of the debate she stood on. She didn’t want to have to choose a side…

On the one hand, was the idea of bringing the Avengers under the mantle of the UN really such a bad idea? Surely it would help protect them as much as it was intended to protect ordinary people, right? Perhaps if the Avengers had been part of some sort of larger structure—like the UN, or as her aunt had explained, like they’d originally been under S.H.I.E.L.D.—Wanda would’ve been protected these last few weeks instead of unfairly blamed. Yes, they would have to answer to others instead of just themselves, but they also have support. Protection. Help, even. They would still be able to protect the world, but with the Law officially on their side and the  _ United Nations _ backing them up.

Was that so bad?

She knew the Avengers. She knew they weren’t perfect, but they weren’t as careless and reckless people claimed. They just weren’t. People just weren’t seeing the larger picture, or hearing the full story.

She had  _ been there _ and Sokovia. She had  _ seen _ Ultron face-to-face. He tried to  _ kill _ her, for heaven’s sake—she had the nasty scar over her ribs to prove it; Pietro had multiple scars. She had seen how twisted the robot had been, how under the veneer of understanding for the suffering in the world and desire for righteous vengeance, he had been bent on nothing more than destruction and death.

She had seen the Avengers in action. She  _ knew _ the lengths the Avengers had been willing to go to to save even one more person. She had  _ seen _ it. They weren’t the heartless warmongers parts of the pro-Accords faction were trying to paint them as.

All they genuinely wanted was to do their best to save the world and the people in it. Heck, that very desire was what had driven Tony to create Ultron in the first place, as she understood it.

And Nina believed in what they did. Part of her even still wanted to  _ be _ one of them.

But as much as she hated to admit it, she could see the other side as well. She wasn’t that naïve.

Things couldn’t continue as they had been. The Avengers couldn’t continue as they used to, answering to nothing and no one but their own consciences. Couldn’t they see it was dangerous? Didn’t they see how people saw them since they operated outside the laws regular people had to follow? Surely it was better to comply…to compromise. They could even negotiate, she imagined. But people saw them as heedless, irresponsible, and entitled because of their superhuman abilities. Even arrogant and outright dangerous. And they  _ weren’t _ ! Nina  _ knew _ them. They were her family.

Surely, since they all believed in the importance of Avenging, since they believed it was their responsibility to put their abilities to work protecting people, they could see the only way they could continue to fulfill their calling, to  _ keep _ helping people, was to go along with the Accords.

It was the stance her aunt had taken and Nina could agree with it.

She knew people were angry that all of the Avengers had walked away from what happened with Ultron and Sokovia without much more than a slap on the wrist. When the world had demanded answers once the dust began to settle over the remnants of Nova Grad, Tony had ordered an official statement released explaining that Ultron had been the product of a global defence program involving artificial intelligence he and the Avengers had been developing that had catastrophically backfired.

And not one charge had been laid. No fines, no official condemnations. There hadn’t even been an Official Inquiry. No hearings, no investigations. Nothing. Even the Avengers had been stunned. Tony had even let it slip once during their conversations about U.I. programming that he still couldn’t believe he hadn’t been officially charged over Ultron…and Nina hadn’t been able to help the sense that on some level he didn’t think that was right. Some countries voiced displeasure, yes, but most governments seemed to want to stay away from the powder keg of bad press the Ultron Fiasco was by calling for investigations to happen or charges to be laid.

Regular people, however, had held no such compunctions. The first true calls to condemn and blame the Avengers and especially Tony had been made following Tony’s statement. And the already divided opinions over the Avengers had begun to deepen.

Then Lagos had happened and the calls for accountability had been given new life. And this time, the calls had gained real traction.

Thus, the Sokovia Accords.

Around her, conversation was beginning to pick up as debate over the Accords inevitably broke out as the initial shock of the attack began to wear off.

“See? This is exactly why the Accords are dangerous,” one of her fellow first-years was hissing, “the Avengers go after guys like the Winter Soldier. But now they’ve been told to stand down and look what happened! This is clearly a statement that without the Avengers on duty, we’re vulnerable,” he finished with a vehement gesture. Around him, a handful of others nodded thoughtfully, while others still scoffed.

“Then why attack the Summit,” one of the girls standing behind Nina’s couch piped up, “it’s just going to strengthen the call for the Accords to go through. It’s an indication that they’re on the right track.”

“Only if it was an attack on the Accords themselves,” another boy interrupted impatiently, “like Jenko said, if it’s a statement that the Accords are giving bad guys opportunity by defanging the only ones that can stand up to them, like the Avengers—”

“Defanging?” someone else interrupted sharply, “Haven’t you actually read anything about what’s actually  _ in _ the Accords? All they’re doing is making the Avengers a part of the UN. The UN’s  _ endorsing _ them! And you do realize most of them support the Accords, right?”

“How do we know this isn’t something cooked up by them,” someone else said, “you know, to undermine—”

“Are you crazy?” one of the girls who’d settled on the floor before the couches interrupted, “why on Earth would you think the Avengers do something like this? If anything the Accords are going to come down on Enhanced people and their allies that much harder because of this. They’re a knee-jerk band-aid solution that never should have passed as quickly as they did! What happened to due-process or any legitimate debate, I ask you.” Another boy on her side of the room started to say something, but she ploughed on, not giving him a chance to do more than draw breath. “You know Enhanced already have to register if they sign? How messed up is that?! I can’t believe the UN let it into Accords at all! It’s totally dangerous and unethical. It’s just like the Muggleborn Registration Act of 1997—”

“What?” It was a girl on the other side of the room that finally interrupted the girl on the floor, but she waved it off quickly enough.

“Harry Potter reference; you wouldn’t understand,” she quipped irritably back at the disruption, “my point is, registration is always the first step toward something worse. Something like persecution and internment. Crack a history book, Sanchez; the Holocaust is a good place to start,” she threw out then, cutting off a boy not far away who was opening his mouth to object to her assessment.

Nina paled, suddenly feeling queasy at the thought. She hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d just been thinking of it in terms of the risk of people like Strucker being able to find people like her because of it. Surely that was an overreaction, right? Nina’s head was beginning to pound, the warm haze in her chest spreading through her body to the very tips of her fingers and toes until her powers enveloped her like a warm sweater. Not that it wholly helped against her suddenly twisting gut.

Maybe Nina was being naïve. She might not have read the Accords cover to cover, but she had a pretty good idea of what all they would encompass. Natasha and her mom had made sure of that once they’d been officially announced.

The warm haze of her powers pulsed unhappily in her chest, echoing her conflicted emotions.

She knew they applied to her. She  _ knew _ she was Enhanced.

Her Mom wasn’t going to sign. Nina had figured that part out before Nadine had even said it. She couldn’t, not unless she wanted to risk being arrested or worse. And she didn’t think Nina should either. She’d said as much the first time they’d talked after the Accords’ announcement. Her Mom thought it was dangerous. For both of them.

And Nina hadn’t been able to help but agree.

Signing meant registering, and registering meant abilities/powers assessments, fingerprints, DNA samples, the works before being put on a list that governments and official agencies all over the world would have access to. It meant restrictions and strict parameters to follow in the name of public safety.

How had she not realized just how unsettling that aspect was before…the idea of being put on a register had made her feel vaguely uneasy, but she hadn’t quite been able to put her finger on why. Well, the why was clear now… That there was the potential within the Accords to distil people down to how dangerous they  _ could _ be and forgetting that they were  _ people _ in the process. She knew it was a paranoid line of thought, but she couldn’t help but feel troubled by the prospect.

But sitting here, surrounded by her fellow students as their debates shifted from the Accords in general to how society needed to deal with the new trend of Enhanced people popping up and living alongside normal people?

About whether or not they should be registered and even singled out?

Maybe what’s-her-face with the Harry Potter references had a point.

It made her feel dirty, like a criminal, even, to hear them talking about people with powers—people like her…and her family and friends—the way they were…she hated the feeling. It was probably a good thing none of them knew the half of Nina’s past or background or who she considered family. Certainly not that she was Enhanced. She hated to think about the attention she would get should any of them find out she was just as Enhanced as Scarlet Witch.

She was finding as time went on that she had a newfound sympathy for her Mom’s inclination to keep secrets.

Further, when it came to her and her mom? Signing would be…complicated, to say the least. Nina wasn’t even sure she would be able sign if she wanted to. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was at risk of being arrested herself if she did. Her identity wasn’t exactly legally documented, after all…she wasn’t even sure if she was legally a citizen  _ anywhere _ , for heaven’s sake, or precisely what her legal name was anymore.

Not to mention that her mom was wanted by agencies all over the world. If she signed? She would likely be hunted down and arrested, for sure—if not killed outright—as soon she put pen to paper. Natasha and her mom both had been very clear about that when they’d been telling Nina about the Accords. Even Clint had mentioned it when she’d talked to him the other day. She glanced to her phone; still nothing. She swallowed thickly. She wished Pietro was here…he always managed to do or say something that made her feel better…

She looked anxiously down to her phone again. Still nothing.

“Nina? You okay?” She started at Gurpreet’s worried question. Automatically she began to nod, only to falter.

“I—my aunt is in Vienna,” she admitted softly, suddenly struck with the compulsion to let the fear out to someone. “She was at the Summit…she hasn’t answered my texts…” Gurpreet immediately looked stricken.

“Oh, Nina,” she breathed, her dark eyes bright and worried as she reached out to brush her hand over Nina‘s shoulder in sympathy. Nina swallowed thickly, fighting back the sudden prickle behind her nose. She shook her head, forcing a tiny smile. She didn’t know what to say back.

Biting back a sigh along with the tears fighting to form, Nina forced her thoughts away from the chaotic mess in her head and the sympathetic look on her friend’s face back to the TV, hoping almost desperately that there would be some word about her Aunt.

Some good words, she amended silently.

After all, if Black Widow—one of the Avengers publicly supporting the Accords—had been killed, the news would be all over it, right? Even with the Wakandan King having been confirmed killed. Natasha was much more famous, after all, cynical and selfish as Nina knew that reasoning sounded.

But instead the station had turned from covering the Attack itself to what little was known about the Winter Soldier. Desperate to keep her thoughts away from her troubled musings on the Accords, the heated discussions going on around her or her painfully silent phone, she turned her attention back to the TV.

She nearly shivered as the blurry security video showing the Winter Soldier was displayed once again. Talk about the boogie-man of the Enhanced world…of the real world too, really. She remembered watching footage of the freeway fight in DC between the him and Captain America back when that had been breaking news. Terrifying and enthralling were words she would use now to describe how she found the clips. Watching the two super-powered men go head-to-head? It had been incredible.

“The primary suspect in the Vienna bombing is a former HYDRA operative known only by the codename ‘The Winter Soldier,’” the anchor was explaining, “but now it is believed that he has in fact been identified as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, a decorated American soldier who was a member of the elite group known as the Howling Commandos during the Second World War. The very unit Captain America led before he was lost in action and frozen in the ice near the end of the War.” Nina’s stomach was suddenly flipping uncomfortably, her phone digging hard into her palm. Somewhere behind her, someone was calling for the volume to be turned up—or was it her own voice…she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she couldn’t seem to look away.

“Further, it is believed that Barnes and Captain Rogers were childhood friends, though this has yet to be confirmed. Until now, Barnes was believed to be the Howling Commandos’ only casualty.”

“Can you believe it?” Nina nearly started at Gurpreet’s astonished question, glancing automatically to the other girl, “he used to be friends with Captain America.”

“Hey, Thomson,” one of the girls from Nina’s dorm piped up, catching Nina’s attention—it still felt odd to answer to Thomson instead of Ryker, “I know you’re a big fan of the Captain, but c’mon. Even you have to admit there’s something a little wonky about the Winter Soldier being his supposed BFF.” Nina suppressed the urge to fist her fingers, her jaw clenching against the urge to object to the inflammatory comment… or some of the other things she was hearing around her. It was almost physically painful to keep herself from bursting out and setting them all straight. Everybody had a right to an opinion, after all…wrong as some of them might sound…

On second thought, it was probably a good thing Pietro wasn’t here. He definitely wouldn’t be able to keep to himself at the talk going on around her…

But as much as it killed her to stay silent, to keep herself from defending her friends and family as every instinct in her screamed to do, she knew she couldn’t. Some of her mom’s and her aunt’s rational pragmatism had rubbed off on her, apparently, tempering her instinct to stand up for those she cared about no matter the cost. That, and she was doing what she was told. Heck, even  _ Tony _ had warned her to keep her head down when it came to discussion about the Avengers.

She hated it, but for the most part she was keeping her thoughts to herself.

Mostly because she was aware enough to realize anything she said might only make things worse. There was no changing some people’s minds, after all. Even with the truth.

Especially when she knew some of what they were all saying was true, as much as it hurt to admit.

She had learned that the hard way.

Nina just hated hearing them attacking the character of people she cared about.

She had a bit of a reputation now as staunchly pro-Avenger, which she was admittedly quite proud of. Though really? The accusation that DC and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. had been one big conspiracy and that ‘Widow and the Captain were working for HYDRA and brought down the Helicarriers because they were the only thing that could stop them’ was just a step too far into senseless and irrational conspiracy peddling. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from shutting  _ that _ one down.

As if Steve would  _ ever _ work for HYDRA…

But her recent labeling as being anti-Accords she was a little more affronted about. Just because she supported the Avengers didn’t mean she was categorically against the Accords as people seemed to assume.

She just had reservations, that’s all. Reservations she believed any rational, decent, intelligent person should have.

“What do you think happened?” the Harry Potter girl was asking as Nina pulled her thoughts away from the Accords…again.

“Dunno,” another boy—Vincent Murray, maybe?—answered, “HYDRA probably went and—”

“C’mon, are you serious?” someone else interrupted, “HYDRA was toast after the Second World War, if it ever existed it all. And that junk about HYDRA infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. after the Helicarrier thing in DC? Bogus.”

“Now you’re sounding like a conspiracy nutbar, Davis,” one of the boys from near the door called out with a laugh.

“Hey, there’s a fine line between conspiracy and cover up.” Davis countered dismissively. “The HYDRA nonsense after DC was a smokescreen to cover up that S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt. It was a way for the government to clean house, protect their own asses and deflect blame by pinning it all on ‘HYDRA’.” Nina groaned as her patience grew frayed, turning to shoot a glare at the dark-haired boy.

“Really? You think Captain America was in on dropping Helicarriers from sky to  _ cover-up _ corrupt organization?” Nina challenged incredulously, “Do you realize how insane that sounds?”

“Maybe they lied to him too,” another girl added helpfully.

Davis scoffed. “Or maybe he was in on it.” Nina bristled, struggling to keep from snapping back, knowing she shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“Are you for real?” someone else burst out, saving her the trouble. “It’s  _ Captain America _ !”

“Yeah, it’s called  _ propaganda _ ,” Davis shot back. Nina’s headache throbbed dully as he continued. “Point is, what’s more likely? A defunct, extinct secret organization infiltrating the world’s premier intelligence agency from within? Or the intelligence agency getting shut down because it was just like every other bureaucratic organization and grew too corrupt to be allowed to continue.”

“Now you’re just sounding paranoid,” the Harry Potter girl dismissed.

“Yeah?” Davis said, “this coming from the girl who thinks the Accords are the first step in hunting down Enhanced people? That’s rich.”

Nina was severely tempted to clamp her hands over her ears as the argument threatened to escalate, the Harry Potter girl throwing some very creative insults at Davis.

Instead, she tried to turn her focus back to the TV, where the anchor was still discussing what little was known about the Winter Soldier. Mercifully, someone had grown frustrated trying to hear the TV over the ‘debates’ filling the air and had turned on the TVs closed captioning function. Having to focus on reading what was being said was at least somewhat helpful in ignoring what was quickly becoming a yelling match.

Really, most of what the anchor was relating was little more than speculation and hearsay. All that was known for sure? The Winter Soldier had been an elite HYDRA operative linked to a large number of terrorist acts and high-profile assassinations, including that of S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury. That and that after the incident in DC, he had disappeared, his whereabouts unknown after that despite every major agency in the world searching for him.

Then the TV switched tracks to what was known about who the Winter Soldier had been before. And Nina found she was suddenly watching what looked like an old reel of Steve and the man who would eventually become the Winter Soldier back during the War. A sudden, sick feeling began to bloom in her gut as Nina finally processed what the TV had been saying before.

The Winter Soldier was Steve’s old friend…his childhood friend…

His best friend, maybe?

Natasha‘s words from an overheard conversation months before were suddenly tickling at the back of her mind as they rose up in her memory. Especially as the anchor repeated that the Winter Soldier had disappeared after the Helicarrier incident in DC and hadn’t been seen since.

Could it…could it be possible that the Winter Soldier was the mysterious man her mom was helping Steve to find? That this James Buchanan Barnes was the friend Natasha had been referring to when she had been defending Nadine’s involvement in the search to Sam?

It made a lot of sense.

Especially considering how secretive the search seemed to be. Nina was pretty sure that, other than her mom, Nat, Sam, Steve and herself, no one knew much of anything about the search for Steve’s friend if they knew about it at all. And Nina only knew about it by accident; she didn’t think anyone knew she knew. If it was just Nadine tracking down one of Steve’s old friends that he wanted to reconnect with, like Peggy, why would it matter if everyone knew or not? Peggy hadn’t been a secret, after all, even if Steve hadn’t broadcasted that he had regularly visited her.

But if the friend Steve had wanted to find was a HYDRA assassin, even a former one, who was in hiding? It made sense that they would keep that were looking for him secret. It would be dangerous if it got out, no question, even in the Compound. Not to mention it would look pretty bad, as some of the conversations around her attested. It was a reasoning that Nina could understand intimately. It was the same reasoning she had been given for why she couldn’t know more about her father yet…

…because it was too dangerous to know…

She frowned in bewilderment as a sudden thought struck her, an odd anxious flutter growing in her stomach. There was an odd sort of parallel…not to mention a few curious similarities between him and  _ him _ …suddenly it felt like there was a truth there in front of her that felt just beyond her grasp…

Could…could the Winter Soldier be…

And then she nearly laughed at the absurdity, her lingering anxiety over the situation in Vienna causing it to catch in her throat. What had that been about? Had her head really just tried to make the connection between the Winter Soldier, Steve’s friend _and_ _her father_?

How ridiculous.

But yet, what she knew about her father could fit with what she now knew about the Winter Soldier, a small, thoughtful part of her mused; KGB operative; skilled agent whose identity was too dangerous to know; dangerous and difficult to try to find, necessitating her mother’s unmatched expertise; working for the wrong people—maybe even brainwashed or programmed, she considered, remembering her aunt’s lesson on Soviet tactics for enforcing loyalty and obedience in its operatives.

And his name was James… She’d always been a little perplexed by her father’s very un-Russian name despite the likelihood that he’d been Russian.

…the Winter Soldier was a Russian agent even though he’d once been an American soldier…

She scoffed. Now she was just overthinking it. Honestly, James was an incredibly common name. To think that, even for a second, part of her thought that maybe the Winter Soldier could be her father because of his name. It made far more sense that her father was a Russian agent who had adopted a less overtly Russian name the way her mom had. Yeah, that sounded reasonable. Natasha had explained that during training once, that many Soviet agents had taken on names it weren’t so overtly Russian. That was probably why her father had such a non-Russian first name. Not because he was a former American soldier who become an elite Russian operative and the best assassin in the world…aside from her mom, of course.

It was a foolish conclusion that made no sense. If the Winter Soldier was half the agent she got the impression he was—elite seemed too small a word considering what little she’d seen of the mysterious assassin in video clips and from what they were saying on the tv—there was no way he would’ve been sent to train new agents…no matter how elite they were intended to be…because her mom and Natasha were the best of the best…who would’ve had to have been taught by the best to become the new best…so maybe it wasn’t so unreasonable that he would be brought in as an instructor…

Oh God, what was she doing? What was wrong with her? Why was she was trying to rationalize such a preposterous theory? No, this was insane. How was she even considering it?

Her brain was attempting to construct an argument out of scattered facts that maybe fit if she looked at them the right way. It was much too far-fetched.

Had to be just a fanciful fit of imagination, right?

One of Barnes’ service photos stared back at her from the TV screen. The captions relaying the anchor’s voiceover could’ve been gibberish for all Nadine was paying them any attention. He had the barest hint of a smile on his face, his hat tilted slightly, suggesting a charming, carefree attitude that his lively blue eyes echoed. He had a nice face, she mused absently. One that was vaguely…vaguely familiar…  

Because she had watched the footage from DC a couple years, she reminded herself irritably, and because he was supposedly the Winter Soldier; he looked markedly different in those images compared to the one of him during the War. Especially at a glance. That was why.

It had nothing to do with the shape or color of his eyes…or the barely there dimple in his chin…or the shape of his cheekbones…or the faint curve of his lips, suggesting the cheerful, mischievous—maybe even sunny—smile he must’ve had…

She swallowed thickly.

Still, it…it was just too…it was all coincidence and conjecture and fanciful leaps of questionable reasoning, she dismissed firmly.

After all, what little she knew about her father was vague and, if she was being honest, mostly conjecture on her part. So really, beyond what her mom and definitively told her, she couldn’t be sure if any of her conclusions about her father were even right. She simply didn’t know enough.

…it also meant she didn’t have any real facts that could rule the Winter Soldier out, either… She shook the thought away. It was beside the point. Any number of men likely fit what little she knew. Dozens, maybe. If not hundreds.

It was as simple as that, she didn’t know enough, so she was…projecting. Sure. That made more sense. No matter that she had resolved to be patient and wait for her mom to tell her, her subconscious just couldn’t let go of her deep-seated desire to find out who her father was. And now, plagued by all the emotional stress and anxiety and fears brought on by the Accords and the Vienna attack, she rationalized, her head was looking for a distraction. And how better to distract herself than with the mystery that trumped all others as far as her mind was concerned: the identity of her father.

So to do that, her subconscious was projecting her desire to finally find him onto a man who sort of-almost-maybe fit the meagre details she had been given about her father. That was all. It was a product of her overwrought emotions and her need to get her mind off her fears, nothing more.

Once she knew the truth, she would laugh at how quickly her head had jumped to measuring the Winter Soldier against what little she knew about her father and considering that he might fit.

She would laugh at how silly an idea it was.

But still…it was somewhat compelling…the parallels between what little she knew about her father and the Winter Soldier… the fact that Sam was apparently along with her mom on a mission to find her father when Sam was only supposed to be in on the search for Steve’s friend… No! She was still doing it!

Her hand tightened on her phone and, before she knew what she was doing, she was typing in her mom‘s number. She only barely stopped her thumb from hitting the call button.

What on Earth was she planning to say?  _ Hi Mom, we just talked and I know you’re trying to find out if Aunt Nat is even still alive, but I’d really like you to confirm or deny this irrational and crazy idea I’ve come up with that the Winter Soldier might be my dad, ‘K _ ?  _ Thanks _ ! She had to be going insane. What on Earth possessed her to even  _ think _ of such a ridiculous idea?! It wasn’t even worth repeating.

Certainly not to her mom or even Wanda or Pietro. Not even to laugh about.

Because it  _ wasn’t _ worth it…not because a little part of her thought it might actually be true…or because a deep aching hurt threatened to settle in her chest at the idea that  _ this _ was what her mom  _ might _ be keeping from her…no matter that logically, it would be a very good reason…

No. She was just over-enthusiastic because she had figured out one mystery regarding her mother’s secret missions and subconsciously hoped she could solve the other at the same time. That was all.

Her stomach flipped uncomfortably as the tiny, quiet part that had come up with the idea pointed out that the pieces just fit a little too well for pure coincidence. She shoved the thought aside…only for it to come back… She huffed irritably.

No. The only way to dispel this absurd conclusion would be to convince her mom to come clean. To  _ really _ come clean. She needed to know who her father was.

Because the Winter Soldier was not her father.

He couldn’t be…could he?

Nina started as her phone buzzed in her hand and immediately all musings on the ludicrous notions about the Winter Soldier bled away, her breath catching anxiously in her chest as she realized what the vibration meant. Her phone nearly fell from her hand as she brought it up to read the message she’d just received, she was so anxious. She read the text first once, then twice, then a third time just to make sure she’d read it right.

_ I’m okay, solnyshko. I’m not hurt. _

A sob nearly burst free from her throat in relief. Natasha was okay. She sagged back into the couch, her head falling to her knees as she inhaled deeply, fighting to catch her breath.

It was as though a huge weight had lifted, and as Nina straightened, the tension holding her body in the tight ball she’d curled into began to loosen. It left her nearly giddy.

At least, until she looked up to the TV to see the old reel of Steve and the Winter Soldier back when he’d been Bucky Barnes playing once more. The smile that had been starting to spread across her face thanks to her aunt’s text immediately began to fade.

Ridiculous as her ‘Winter Father’ theory was, it was clear that her other theory was not: Barnes and Steve had been friends. Best friends. And suddenly her chest was aching for the man who had become like an uncle to her…how could she have lost sight of that…how selfish did that make her…

“How does a guy go from being a war hero to—to a bad guy?” Gurpreet asked softly, her lilting voice faintly awed even as it was uneasy as it jolted Nina from her train of thought. “I wonder what happened to him?” Nina just shook her head, once again unable to tear her eyes away from the TV screen.

“Something bad,” she answered hollowly.

It was all she could think to say.


	98. Chapter 23

**London, England**

**Spring 2016**

It felt…good, odd but good to see Sharon again. It was nice to talking to her. And talking about Peggy? It was…it was a relief. A strange sort of relief.

And Sharon? Well, she looked good. There was no question there. And she sounded like she was doing well. Every now and then she would seem to dim and her eyes would grow damp and sad, but on the whole she seemed…at peace with Peggy's passing. But then, Steve supposed that given Peggy's age and the way her health and mind had been deteriorating these last few months, her passing was more a blessing than everything else. The Peggy he remembered? To see her keen mind fade on top of her body growing old and frail? It had been heartbreaking. She had been such a strong, clever woman with an indomitable spirit. By the time she'd died? Well…part of Steve was tempted to say that hadn't been Peggy anymore.

Save for the small glimpses of the old Peggy that still managed to surface and make him feel like a scrawny, bumbling waif of a boy again.

Lord, he was going to miss her…

But even he couldn't deny that it had been time. The Peggy he had known during the War had already passed into memory, as much as it hurt to realize, and the Peggy she had become with the passage of time and a life long lived that he hadn't been a part of had all but done the same as old age and dementia took its toll.

It was a mercy, in a way.

And it was obvious that Sharon felt the same. Yes, sadness still shadowed her smile and her laugh was more subdued than he remembered from her time living across the hall from him, but she seemed almost relieved at the same time. Steve could understand that.

It was nice to see her again. It really was. He smiled as she chuckled over one of his memories of Peggy, feeling some of the tension his grief had left in his chest easing. It was easy to remember why he'd been so interested in Sharon when she'd been his neighbour. Heck, even after he'd found out she was an agent.

But yet…here, now? Though they seemed to gravitate toward each other over the course of the reception, he couldn't say it was out of that sort of interest. Not like it had been, when he'd made excuses to chat with her in the hall for even a minute more. Now it was…simple familiarity. The link they now had through Peggy and their short time as neighbours. There was still a measure of attraction there, sure, but…

But his interest was elsewhere, now. There was no denying that, even if only to himself. Especially as he caught himself unconsciously scanning the crowd for a pale blonde head that didn't belong to Sharon…again. He shook the impulse away, reminding himself that she and Sam had left a while before to check on one of Nadine's list of abandoned safehouses.

It was easier said than done.

He liked Nadine, and no amount of rationalization that he shouldn't was diminishing his growing feelings. Not even for Bucky's sake.

He liked her. More than he should.

It was probably a good thing he hadn't kissed Nadine back there in the sanctuary…but that didn't stop him from thinking he should have. He wished he had.

It really meant more to him than he could hope to ever properly put into words that Nadine had been sitting there next to Sam. That she had been there for him. She had followed him to London, just for him. Not to continue on to Vienna as Nat had done—not that it didn't mean the world to him that Natasha had wanted to be there for him too. But with Nadine? It gave the persistent, incorrigible part of him that wanted more hope that, just maybe, there were feelings there for her too.

After all, it wasn't just any friend who would do that.

Nor was any friend who would take his hand as she had. And just let him hold on. To anchor him.

Nadine didn't 'touch' often. That was something Steve had come to realize in the last several months. She rarely affectionately or absently touched anyone. It was always with conscious intent if she laid a hand on someone's shoulder or arm. It was like he'd noticed with Natasha those first few years he'd known her, before she'd started to consider him and the rest of the Team true friends, even family. Nadine was the same. She didn't affectionately touch.

Except with Nina, Natasha and even Wanda in more recent weeks…and him.

Nor did she often let others touch her, always subtly, even unconsciously distancing herself if it seemed imminent.

Save with her sister, her daughter and…him.

He wasn't even sure she realized she did it, to be honest.

And he didn't quite know what to make of it…well, no. He knew what he wanted to make of it.

It was why he couldn't just dismiss the way she'd pulled away in the sanctuary as a lack of interest or rejection. No matter that he probably should…

He just couldn't ignore what it meant.

Or at least, what he hoped it meant. Because it was just that, hope.

It was probably just as simple as she had gotten to know him well enough and was simply  _used_  to a certain level of familiarity with him thanks to their twice-weekly sparring session. That was probably it. He probably shouldn't be reading too much into it.

But, damn, he wanted to…

Not only had she reached out to him and let him hold on for the length of the service, but after? When Natasha had hugged him? Nadine had been there too, offering her own support. And after Natasha had left? When he and Nadine had talked? She'd been touching him one way or another nearly the whole time.

Even that day, when he'd heard about Peggy, she had reached out to him.

He wanted it to mean something.

And in his gut? Part of him was sure it did.

Add in how almost…conflicted she'd looked as she'd pulled away from him back in the sanctuary? Like she hadn't wanted to but felt she should…kind of the way he'd felt, really…

He nearly started scolding himself when he caught himself scanning the crowd yet again.

Around them, the reception had effectively broken up, the last of the guests beginning to go their separate ways. Steve nodded to another couple he didn't know in silent greeting as they paused to bid Sharon goodbye; the man had been a coworker of Peggy's at S.H.I.E.L.D. in his younger days and one of Sharon's before he retired, if Steve was interpreting the conversation right.

As the older couple excused themselves and bid their final goodbyes, Sharon sighed, shooting Steve an apologetic look.

"I should probably get going too," she said with a thread of reluctance. "I need to head out in a couple hours. Back to work, and all that," she said with a smile. Steve gave a small chuckle as they both began to edge toward the door of the hall.

"Walk you to your car?" he asked before he could help himself. There might not be quite the same interest there as back in DC, and she might not be the woman part of him wished she was, but he was enjoying her company all the same. Besides, it was the polite thing to do. Her smile grew amused.

"I'm not leaving just yet. So maybe the elevator?" She chuckled at his hesitation, taking pity on him and his sudden confusion and explaining, "I've been staying here for the funeral. I may be working on this side of the ocean these days, but it was still a little far to commute," she joked lightly.

"Ah," he said with a laugh, feeling silly that he hadn't thought of that right away. Her smile widened. "To the elevator, then." She accepted with a nod, following his gesture to precede him out into the lobby.

"So Natasha mentioned you're with the CIA, now," Steve observed as he fell into step beside Sharon, their pace leisurely as they circled slowly around the lobby toward the elevators. He managed a cursory look around before pulling his attention back to Sharon. "How's that working out?"

She nodded. "It's not too bad, really." Steve shot her a questioning look at the odd tone she used. Almost resigned. She let out a small laugh at being caught out. "Yeah, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., but then, even S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't exactly S.H.I.E.L.D., so…" Steve let out a wry chuckle. That was for sure. He exchanged a wry grin with Sharon, the expression still faintly grim. An expression she echoed.

"I imagine Peggy was a big part of why you signed up with S.H.I.E.L.D.," he continued, adjusting the subject. He wasn't in the mood to go hashing into thoughts on HYDRA and the mess they'd made. Sharon nodded, her grin knowing as she caught on to his intent.

"My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting," she said with a fond smile, "but, umm, not Aunt Peggy. She bought me my first thigh holster." Steve couldn't help but chuckle. That did sound like something Peggy would do, no question. His steps slowed as they reached the elevators, Sharon's slowing to match as she reached out to tap the up button. Before he could stop himself, he was glancing out across the lobby again.

And this time he caught a glimpse of the pale head he'd been unconsciously looking for all afternoon, spying Sam and Nadine slipping into the hall he and Sharon had just left. The pair of them were already back from checking out the abandoned safehouse, it seemed. Had that much time already passed? Straightening automatically, his hand twitched in his pocket as he thought to catch their attention; they were likely looking for him. But before he could they were already out of sight. An anxious flutter woke in his gut. They were back, and judging from the carefully neutral look he had glimpsed on Nadine's face, he was willing to hazard that their errand hadn't had the outcome they'd hoped for. It meant that, tempting as it was, there was no point in rushing off after his two companions.

He would make his goodbyes to Sharon, then he would check in with Nadine and Sam. Withholding a disappointed sigh, he shook his head, clearing his throat slightly as he forced his attention back to the woman he'd been talking to.

Who was suddenly very much not the woman he wanted to be standing next to.

"Very practical," he replied, berating himself the moment the words left his mouth over how distracted he sounded. Her eyes flicked in the direction he'd just been looking. But she didn't comment on his momentary distraction even if her lip quirked.

"And stylish," she added wryly, a curious yet knowing glint in her eye. He nearly cleared his throat again at the look, grasping for something to say and all but blurting out the first question that came to mind. Mercifully, it didn't sound as unsettled as he suddenly felt.

"So, the CIA has you stationed over here now?" Her lips twitched again at his question and he got the distinct impression she'd seen right through his attempt at downplaying how he'd been caught looking for someone else in the middle of their conversation.

"In Berlin," she answered, mercifully letting his poor manners go, seeming to find it funny more than rude. "Joint Counter Terrorism Task Force."

"Right," he said, feeling foolish; he was pretty certain in retrospect that Natasha had told him that too…or given his luck just now, Sharon had mentioned it… "Right. Sounds fun." She laughed softly.

"I know, right?" He smiled at her faintly teasing tone. He sighed then, his thoughts inadvertently circling back around to Peggy as they had been all day. he decided then that he might as well ask the question that had been preying on his mind since he'd first realized she and Peggy were related.

"I've been meaning to ask you. When you were spying on me from across the hall—"

Sharon's lips twitched once more as she interrupted, "you mean when I was doing my job." Steve spared a small grin of apology, but levelled her with an earnest look regardless.

"Did Peggy know?" He asked quietly. Sharon's amused smile dimmed, her expression growing sedate and distinctly apologetic.

"She kept so many secrets," she said after a moment collecting her thoughts. She looked up to Steve with unmistakable sincerity. "I didn't want her to have one from you." It was at that moment that the elevator chimed, the doors sliding open. Sharon glanced up to Steve, a small smile once more in her face. "Thanks for walking me back." Steve returned the expression, unexpectedly relieved even as a measure of sadness came over him. He honestly wasn't sure what answer he'd been expecting, or even which one he would've preferred.

"Sure," he replied, only to be interrupted before he could say anything further.

"Steve." Both of them turned at the soft call, Steve frowning as Sam approached, his normally cheerful features guarded. Nadine followed closely behind, her face just as carefully blank as Steve had glimpsed before, but her grey eyes were noticeably grave. Unease began twisting in his gut.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Sam nodded over his shoulder. "There's something you've gotta see." Steve and Sharon glanced to each other, her looking just as perplexed as he felt. Steve stepped toward Sam.

"Not here," Nadine interrupted, her voice far more emotionless than it had been in a long time. Steve's frown deepened. "Somewhere private," she instructed grimly. Sharon glanced between Nadine and Steve before nodding toward the elevator.

"You can use my room," she offered.

The elevator ride was one of the longest and most anxious Steve had ever experienced…and that was saying something. It felt like a building was suddenly sitting on his chest. Neither Sam nor Nadine said a word, Sam merely saying it'd be easier to show than explain.

And as soon as Sam flipped on the TV in Sharon's room, Steve understood why at once.

There had been an attack on the Accords Summit in Vienna.

And the prime suspect was Bucky.

It felt like a kick in the gut. No…a shot in the gut. Honestly, it felt almost exactly like the bullet Bucky had put in his stomach that day on the Helicarrier all over again. The searing shock of it, the breathless clench deep in his abdomen. Steve's jaw tensed as Sam came to stand stoically on his left, leaning against the back of the couch as Nadine sunk down onto it next to where Steve stood. Not one of them could tear their attention away from the screen, though Steve couldn't help but muse absently that Nadine was undoubtedly listening with half an ear as Sharon paced behind them, speaking intently with what sounded like her boss. But what small amusement he got from the thought quickly faded. The gravity of what had happened was simply too great.

More than seventy injured and at least twelve dead. Including the Wakandan King.

He just couldn't believe this was happening. It felt like a bad dream, a nightmare, yet it felt too real to be anything but true. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. A sense of  _wrong_ bloomed in his gut right alongside the pain. If Bucky had done this, it couldn't have been by choice. Steve knew that as surely as he'd recognized Bucky on that DC freeway. As surely as he knew it had been  _Bucky_  who had pulled him from the river, not the Winter Soldier. As surely as he always known growing up and every day during the War that Bucky would always have his back.

Something was off here. No matter what Bucky had been made to do as the Winter Soldier, he wouldn't do this. Not as himself.

There had to be more to the story.

As video played of the attack's aftermath followed by a still from security footage appearing to show Bucky on the scene, Steve's insides clenched tighter as yet another realization broke over him.

Natasha had been there. She had been at the summit.

And at once he was looking to Nadine.

It was then that Steve noticed just how drawn and emotionless her bloodless face had grown. Concern surfacing on his features, he shifted closer to her, his hand brushing across her shoulder. She actually tensed at the contact, though it was so minute a reaction Steve wasn't entirely sure he'd actually seen it.

"Nadine?" he questioned softly. He was about to withdraw his hand from where it rested on her shoulder, but it was then that he noticed the tension beginning to bleed from her frame as she unconsciously leaned into the touch. So he allowed his hand to linger, a faint, reassured feeling surfacing beneath the dread that had been haunting him since before Sam had even turned on the television. After a long moment she drew in a long, steadying breath.

"This is wrong. It wasn't him," she said softly, nearly to herself, before glancing up to Steve. Her grey eyes were distressed as her mask began to crack even as her voice strengthened. "It wasn't him. It's not his M.O.. It's too…too sloppy," she finished distractedly, retreating into her own head again briefly before continuing again as though her thoughts hadn't interrupted. "Besides, we all know he broke with HYDRA, that he's in the wind. He's running from them, hiding. He wouldn't do this. Not if he wanted to stay hidden. It makes no sense for him to have done this. There's no motive, no gain…unless…" she looked up to him again, her face grave and deeply troubled—horrified, even, "unless someone managed to activate his programming…" The dread churning in Steve's stomach intensified again, matching the look in her eyes.

That was precisely what he feared.

And he felt the minute shudder that went through her as she looked back to the screen. Steve's jaw clenched once more, barely hearing what the anchor was saying anymore as he watched clips of the rescue effort flash across the TV screen.

It was then that Sharon's soft voice behind them fell silent.

"I have to go to work," Sharon said softly as she came to stand on Sam's left. Steve glanced to her, taking in the grave way she looked to the TV just as they were.

"JCTTF's getting sent after him," Steve asked grimly. It really wasn't much of a question, though. Sharon's nod wasn't necessary. It was written on her face.

"He didn't do this," Nadine repeated to herself, her head shaking slowly. "He wouldn't do this." This time, though, Steve wasn't the only one who heard. Sharon looked sharply to Nadine, her face blatantly incredulous.

"He wouldn't?" Something in Sharon's voice had shifted, and it took Steve a moment to recognize it was the agent in her asking, even accusing. Nadine didn't even look away from the TV, though Steve felt her begin to tense once more beneath his palm even if she gave no outward sign of it.

"He wouldn't," was all Nadine said, her emotions once more carefully hidden away. He squeezed her shoulder gently, unable to help the measure of relief that came when she inhaled slowly, once more leaning unconsciously into his touch.

"Then you obviously didn't see what he did in DC," Sharon countered irritably, her voice clipped and cool as her arms crossed over her chest. "This is what he does." Steve looked to the CIA agent, concern mingling with his unease and dread. He'd never…no, he had seen her like this before. When Fury has been bleeding out in his living room. She was deeply unsettled. Unsettled and afraid, he realized with a start.

But all thought of that fled as Nadine's features, already cool and blank, hardened as she pulled away from Steve's touch, standing to face Sharon.

"Obviously? You're the only one here who hasn't fought him before. You're the only one here who doesn't  _know_  him," Nadine answered. If Sharon's tone had been cool, Nadine's was positively frigid. Icy…and clearly dangerous. Sharon paled, though her own hard expression didn't falter as she met Nadine's eye without flinching.

"She's right, Sharon," Steve interrupted softly, not caring how weary he sounded. "Bucky wouldn't do this." Now it was Steve Sharon's incredulous look was fixed on.

"Bucky—what do you mean," she asked just as softly, bewilderment taking over from accusation. Before Steve could answer, Sam was the one who spoke up.

"Just keep watching," he said grimly.

Sure enough, in learning Bucky's identity, the world news had put together that he was the same James Buchanan Barnes that had once been one of Steve's Howling Commandos…and his friend. Steve could practically see Sharon's mind working out of the corner of his eye as she first watched the screen and when she turned to study Steve. Nadine just watched the younger woman, her features impassive. Finally Sharon sighed heavily.

"You're sure," was all she said, looking to Steve. He nodded slowly.

"Absolutely. That," he gestured absently to the screen which once again showed the aftermath of the explosion, "was not Bucky." Sharon nodded, her thoughts once again kicking into gear.

"Then…if you can get to him first?" Hope flared in Steve's chest as he met Sharon's earnest, determined gaze. She believed them. She was going to help. Something in Nadine eased, her expression softening minutely as she saw what Steve did.

"If he's himself?" Steve answered without hesitation, "I can talk to him."

"But if he's the Winter Soldier…" Nadine countered softly, trailing off as she looked to Steve. Steve sighed. She was right, that was a whole different problem.

"What does that mean? There's a difference?" Sharon asked. "If he's your friend, if you know him, will that matter? You just said can talk to him; you'll be able to reason with him the way we can't." Nadine sighed sadly, turning to look sightlessly back to the TV. But as Steve was about to answer, Nadine answered for him.

"That's just it. We wouldn't be able to reason with him. He can't reason. At least," she hesitated for a moment, getting her thoughts in order, "not the way we do. Not the way you mean. Not when he's the Winter Soldier. He can plan, he can strategize, he can problem-solve, but he can't  _think_. If he's the Winter Soldier, if his programming has been activated, he only knows how to follow his orders and will do so without hesitation. Nothing else matters. Nothing else can get through. With time and the right handling, that control can be…subverted, even broken, but there's no guarantee…

"But when he's Barnes? He's…" Nadine shrugged helplessly, "he's a different person. He's the Bucky Steve grew up with. He's a good man. That's why this doesn't make any sense. Not for him. Not unless…" she hesitated, glancing to Steve again, her gaze once more clearly troubled, "not unless there's someone else calling the shots." Sharon blinked, her head shaking slowly as she processed.

"How do you know this about him?" There was no emotion, no indication of feeling in Nadine's eyes as she turned back to Sharon.

"Let's just say I got close enough to see what made him tick," she said simply.

"How?" Sharon pressed, not unkindly. She just couldn't quite wrap her head around what she was hearing. Steve looked to Nadine, concern bubbling in his chest. Nadine simply leveled the other woman with an impassive look.

"He was brought in to test us, in the place where I was trained as a girl. I learned a great deal about him," she said nearly without inflection. "More than that, he's a step beyond what they tried to make me and Natasha, to some extent." Steve was just as stunned as Sharon and Sam, though for a much different reason. He had not expected her to say that. He hadn't expected her to answer at all, much less so bluntly. He knew how much she didn't like to talk about that time in her life.

The news must have really shaken her…

He watched in silence as Sharon leaned a hip against the back of the couch, looking to Nadine incredulously.

Sam shifted closer to Steve, leaning in and pitching his voice low. "He was involved with her training?" There was a faint, incredulous cast to his tone. Mutely, Steve nodded, earning a quiet, impressed sound. "I take it you knew that." Again Steve nodded, though this time he answered too, keeping his voice just as low as Sam's.

"It's not something she likes to advertise. Probably for the same reason she and Nat don't like to talk about where they were trained." He could practically hear Sam gearing up to ask, his dark brows furrowing with curiosity. "They aren't pleasant memories, Sam," he continued before the former paratrooper could manage to say anything, "I know Nat told you some of her history. It wasn't a nice place where they grew up. Let's leave it at that."

"Where were you trained," Sharon was asking as Steve fell silent, her eyes calculating as she asked. She was testing Nadine, Steve realized. Something Nadine saw too if the equally calculating look that flashed in her grey eyes was any indication.

"That's not important," Nadine said with a subtle air of finality. "And yes," she said with a glance to Sam and Steve, her expression softening slightly, "it was not a nice place. So understandably, I think, neither Natasha nor I like to talk about it. Our tests were brutal. They were cruel, they were merciless. Because that's what they wanted to make us." Sam blew out a harsh breath, visibly stunned.

"Jeez, Ryker. I—" She shot Sam a tight smile, cutting him off with a shake of her head.

"It's okay, Sam," she said softly. "You didn't know." He shook his head right back, his mouth opening to object, but it was Sharon who spoke up first.

"Natasha?" she asked, glancing between the three of them before settling on Nadine again, "Romanoff? You were a Russian spy, like her?" The corner of Nadine's mouth quirked, but it was a humourless expression.

"Not exactly," she admitted after a moment. "Yes, I was trained to be a master spy, just as she was, among…other things. But my life took a…well, it took a different route, let's say. So no. I'm not a spy. I'm more of an…independent operative." Steve looked between the two women, unable to help the uneasy feeling growing in his gut. Nadine just impassively met Sharon's eye as Sharon levelled Nadine with a deeply considering look, her expression growing distinctly guarded.

"Who are you?" the younger agent asked, glancing warily between Steve and Nadine, "Who is this?" Steve hesitated, unsure how to answer. So he looked to Nadine, looking for any indication how she wanted to handle this. Nadine didn't react, not saying a word. She just cocked her head minutely, considering. He glanced back to Nadine once more even as he edged around the couch to stand between the two women before turning to Sharon. Nadine watched the pair of them with unreadable eyes.

"Sharon," he began carefully, unsure what to say despite a bewildering sense of anticipation suddenly fluttering around in his gut, "it's not—"

"The Ghost," Nadine interrupted softly. Sharon's eyes went wide, her mouth nearly dropping open even as her brow furrowed with trepidation. Obviously it was a designation she was familiar with. Steve nearly gaped as his gaze snapped to Nadine, not quite sure if he'd heard right. Had she just… Despite himself, his lip quirked faintly as he looked to Nadine in astonishment.

"Nadine…" At his murmur, she spared him a silent, warning glance. It was then he saw it; surprise. She had surprised herself by admitting who she was.

Steve inhaled deeply, glancing between the two women once more. Nadine looked almost…accepting. Like she had known Sharon finding out would be inevitable. But there was just as much trepidation in her eyes as there was on Sharon's face as she assessed the younger woman's reaction. That and a flicker of dread.

"Sharon," he asked cautiously, drawing the younger woman's troubled gaze, "this can't get out," he said softly. She inhaled deeply, her features guarded as he knew his were. As Sam's and Nadine's were. But after a long, uncertain moment, she nodded once, briskly. And the dread eased, even if only a little.

It was then that Sharon's phone pinged, snapping the moment and the tension. With a final, considering look to Nadine, Sharon retreated back to the table where she'd left her phone, her lips to thinning as she read the message.

"My ride leaves in twenty. I've got to go," she said briskly, pointedly not looking to Nadine. She looked up to Steve, pulling a card from her jacket pocket and handing it to him. "Let me know when you get to Vienna." Steve nodded, slipping the card into his own pocket.

"On to Vienna then?" Sam asked as Sharon excused herself to gather her things. Steve just nodded before gesturing that they should leave Sharon to packing.

"We'll need to find somewhere to lay low until Sharon has something for us," Steve sad lowly as they let themselves out into the hall.

"I can take care of that," Nadine offered from behind the two men as she pulled the door shut behind her. Both Steve and Sam turned to her in surprise.

"You can?" Steve asked. Her lip quirked into a small, wry smile.

"Don't forget, I used to live in Vienna. I have somewhere we can go."


	99. Chapter 24

**Vienna, Austria**

**Spring 2016**

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’d already been looking for him.”

Nadine looked up to Steve at the comment, quirking a brow at him even as she failed to entirely hide an amused grin.

“You doubted,” she challenged lightly. He grinned back, faintly abashed.

“No, not really.” He nodded absently back over his shoulder toward the bulletin boards Nadine still had lining the wall of her Workshop. “It's just something else to see it.” She looked over, eyes tracing the familiar webs of carefully organized clues and intel she’d been building for years. She nodded, chuckling softly. She was willing to give him that. The boards were impressive, especially when one knew they showed only a fraction—the highlights—of her work.

“Yeah. He certainly hasn’t made it easy.” She sighed, grin fading as her gaze skimmed across the boards before dropping back to the keypad she was programming. “We’re so close, Steve…” she murmured.

“I know,” he agreed softly. She looked up to him.

“We need to talk about next steps,” she said softly. “With the JCTTF on him now too? We—”

“Sharon will tell us what she can,” Steve assured her, the confidence in his voice making her stomach squirm. “We'll go from there.”

“But what if she doesn’t get a chance,” Nadine challenged, an anxious pressure beginning to swell in her chest. “She might not have time to give us a warning if they do manage to find him. We need to find him first.” Steve didn’t argue, simply watching her work as he mulled over her warning.

“Then we find him,” he finally said. Nadine let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Had it really meant that much to her to hear he trusted her judgement over Sharon Carter's?

Apparently.

Her stomach flipped happily. Especially as he edged closer. It took far more effort than she was comfortable with not to get distracted by his proximity.

“Nadine.” She paused from validating Sam and Steve’s fingerprints with her security system, looking up to Steve. He was still watching her, his eyes serious as they fixed solely on her. “Why did you tell Sharon?” He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he meant.

She probably shouldn’t have. She knew that too. But at the same time, she’d recognized the way Sharon had been looking at her as Nadine had shared her links to both Barnes and Natasha; she had foolishly made herself a puzzle to the CIA agent, and there was little question Sharon would’ve started digging as soon as they all parted ways. To not tell her would’ve only forestalled the inevitable.

It would’ve only been a matter of time before Sharon made the connection that she was The Ghost.

“Because she was going to figure it out anyway,” she answered softly, “and telling her keeps her from searching and tipping anyone off.” Understanding flashed in his eyes. She knew he’d get it. As she turned her attention back to task yet again, the corner of her lip quirked fondly before she could help it. Only for her sure taps on the screen to falter as he seemed to edge closer still.

“Thank you for this,” he said softly then. “All of this.” Her heart was trying to pound, but she fought against it. This wasn’t going to go where her subconscious wanted it to go. She smiled wanly back without letting herself look up to him, forcing herself to focus on reprogramming the keypad instead of on things that weren’t going to happen. Things that couldn’t happen. With a small smile, she raised the tablet she was using to connect with her Workshop’s keypad.

“Well, it makes it easier for everyone if you have access without needing me. Nat has clearance, after all. Why not you?” His smile quirked in a silent chuckle.

“It’s for more than just adding me and Sam to your security,” he explained needlessly, easily brushing aside her futile attempt to maintain even the illusion of distance. “You’ve invited us into your sanctuary. We both know that’s more than you needed to offer. A lot more.” She shrugged, pointedly keeping herself from looking up again.

Looking up just now, with him so close…she was already in dangerous territory…

“Yeah, well…it's not entirely selfless,” she brushed off. “You know I need to find him too. Besides, it doesn’t sit right, what they’re saying went down, the way they’re hunting him.” He only hummed in response, no doubt recognizing her painfully obvious deflection. There was no point in saying anything else. Nadine disconnected her tablet, closing up the housing for her Workshop’s main entry keypad.

“You’re cleared,” she said to Steve with a smile as she slipped past him and headed back toward her boards, knowing he would follow.

Only to stop as his hand hooked lightly on her arm.

“Nadine,” he said earnestly, his gaze snaring hers and not letting go, “really. Thank you.” Her breath hitched, unable to quite manage to form the words required to respond. She was acutely aware of the warmth of his hand and just how close he was. Mentally she shook her head, forcing herself not to give in and study his features—his clear, ocean-hued eyes, his full lips…lips she’d dreamed of… No, she couldn’t go there. She just couldn’t.

Mutely, she just nodded, forcing a weak smile to her lips, reaching out to lay a hand on his bicep to convey her appreciation for the sentiment.

Only for her breath to well and truly catch when his fingers were suddenly grazing across her cheek, his thumb rising to brush the corner of her mouth…the way he was looking at her…considering, intent…

And then they were leaning closer, so close…and she couldn’t stop it…she didn’t have the will to stop it… She didn’t know who moved first…was it her? Him? Both?

Warmth bloomed deep within her chest as his lips brushed, feather light against hers.

It could barely be called a kiss…almost more a mingling of breath than anything else…and yet…it left her lips tingling and her pulse fluttering as a small, tense part of her eased, pleased and nearly…relieved…

And suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest, realization crashing in on her as she pulled abruptly back, staring up at him in shock and disbelief.

Oh, God, had that really nearly happened…

Had she really just…

How could she have let herself almost…

Swallowing thickly, knowing her eyes were probably far too wide and conflicted and her cheeks undoubtedly beginning to flush, she searched his features, suddenly fearful. He looked so…thoughtful? Considering? There was an odd expression in his gaze that she couldn’t quite decipher; that was happening more and more frequently with him. Why couldn’t she read him? She needed to know! To understand what had just happened. To understand how he _felt_ about what had just happened _…_ of all the times to give into such a thoughtless impulse…why hadn’t she stopped herself…but…he had been the one to lean in first…to nearly…did that mean…

It couldn’t possibly…

Maybe she just didn’t want to understand.

Maybe she was afraid to…

…but the way he was looking at her…like…like he _knew_ something, like he was seeing something in her face…like he’d just gotten an answer to something he’d been waiting to find out…

Her gut twisted further and she slipped free of his hold.

No, that couldn’t be. He couldn’t. He _shouldn’t_.

And yet…

She pointedly ignored the bewildered sting in her chest as he called after her. He sounded almost…apologetic. No, that couldn’t be either. She was being ridiculous. She needed to stop letting her control over herself and her emotions falter. She needed to stop letting herself hope like that, she firmly reminded herself. He didn’t like her the way the small, rebellious, secret part of her hoped and he shouldn’t. So why on earth had she given into the impulse to almost do… _that_? It had to have been her. Hung up on him as she was? It had to have been her impulse behind it.

Not Steve’s. Not someone like him. Someone loyal and principled, noble and kind-hearted… Not with someone like her.

Someone with entirely too much baggage and entirely too many ghosts and shadows in her past.

But he had reached out to her first, his fingers brushing so tenderly across her cheek before _he_ leaned in fir—

No, it was best if she cut this line of thought off right now. At best, it had to have been nothing more than curiosity on his part. It can’t have meant what part of her was trying to say it did. What part of her desperately wanted it to mean.

It really hadn’t even been a kiss at all, she was suddenly arguing with herself, so why was she so worked up over it? She was probably just overthinking what she thought she saw in his face. Making more out of it that she should.

It would be best then to just put it from her mind. Continue on as though it really was no more than a gesture of thanks between friends. Like it meant no more than a kiss on the cheek; maybe that’s what he’d meant it to be….yes. That was it. He undoubtedly meant to do just that; a friendly gesture of thanks just like the odd time she’d seen Natasha kiss his cheek in the past and vice versa. She was the one who had let her foolish, romantic impulses try to turn it into something else.

It probably hadn’t meant a thing, so there was no point in fixating on it.

It was the safest explanation for what had happened…especially when a steadily growing part of her wanted to… No, the best thing to do would be to move on. To focus on what needed to be done. There was no point in dwelling since it couldn’t possibly mean what she wanted it to.

…but the way he’d touched her cheek…and the way he’d looked at her…the way he’d been the one to lean in first, leaving her to close the distance between them…

Could it be possible?

Her stomach flipped, and for the life of her she couldn’t determine if it was out of giddiness or unease. As if her already faltering resolve needed any more encouragement.

Now was very much not a good time for this…

Not when there were more important things to worry about just now than her feelings and what Steve might or might not feel for her.

Like finding Barnes. Her daughter’s father. The man she owed her life to.

That was the priority.

It was a sobering thought that washed over her with all the efficacy of a splash of cold water. Everything else could wait. Even confronting what was coming to feel like a rather astonishing revelation about Steve…

She was setting her tablet on the table next to her bulletin boards when he came to a stop beside her once again. Dread and hope mingled in her gut, not sure whether she wanted him to…she wasn’t sure what, anymore. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping, what she might be projecting…what she was actually seeing in him when he looked at her…God, the _feelings_ swirling around in his eyes that she just couldn’t quite seem to read…

Oh, for heaven’s sake, it was just a kiss, she scolded herself. It wasn’t like she’d declared just how much she’d come to care for him or anything, just like she couldn’t be sure what it was he really felt—and she wasn’t about to ask him and find out. She was making far too much of this and it needed to stop. She needed to get a hold of herself. This riot of thoughts and emotions threatening to overtake her common sense was dangerous. She couldn’t allow herself to be anything but controlled and one hundred percent focused. Not with her—their mission hanging in the balance.

So she wrestled herself back under control as best she could even as she schooled her features as she’d been trained to carefully conceal just how unsettled he’d left her.

Broadcasting it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“The JCTTF are going to have their hands full sifting through all the rubbish tips they’re bound to get now that they’ve gone public with Barnes’ identity,” she pointedly mused aloud even as she saw him opening his mouth out of the corner of her eye. “I should be able to tap into their network to keep an eye out, but since Sharon’s got that mess covered, it’s probably a good idea for us to focus on other avenues.”

She nearly sighed in relief as he followed her cue and moved on to the task at hand.

“Where do you want to start, then?” he asked. She hummed, forcibly turning her own thoughts over to just that. It was just what she needed: a task. A reminder of her purpose, her priority. The focus she needed so she could lock away her conflicted feelings…not that she was wholly successful…

She glanced up to her boards for a moment, collecting her thoughts and aiming them where they needed to go. Where to start, indeed. Well, if he had been the one to set off the bomb it meant he had been in Vienna at the very least. They would be remiss if they didn’t at least take a look at the safehouse she’d found here in Vienna in case that was where he’d been beforehand. Steve and Sam could check it out while she started working up where he was most likely to go next…

They both turned at the low whistle that indicated Sam’s approach.

To say Sam—and Steve too, really—had been awed when Nadine had ushered them into her Workshop felt like an understatement. And Nadine had probably enjoyed both their reactions more than she should have. It made her sister’s admiration seem almost lacking in comparison. Almost.

She was pretty sure Sam had spent the last ten minutes perusing her Workroom and its array of weaponry with all the intent interest of a child in a toy store…almost as long as Nat had, she recalled with a smile…

She fought back the residual flare of fear that still hadn’t quite abated by reminding herself yet again that her sister was okay. On the jump over to Germany from Britain, Nadine had finally heard from Natasha, a short text telling her she was okay followed by a short call several minutes later that had done wonders to put Nadine’s crushing worry at ease. All of their worry, really; hers, Steve’s and Sam’s. Nadine hadn’t realized just how much the uncertainty of Natasha’s safety had been weighing on her until the moment she heard her voice, immediately starting to shake as she willed back the dampness that had sprung to her eyes. Even now, it was still affecting her, her gut quivering in mixed relief and anxiety that came from knowing her sister was close and okay, yet still wanting to see it for herself.

God, she was feeling far too much, just now…she needed to get herself back under control.

Coming to a stop next to Steve, Sam’s keen eye took in the bulletin boards with a distinctly impressed look. They weren’t even complete, anymore, what with the portions she taken back to the Compound and the work she’d done since she’d last updated the boards absent from the whole. Nor was it counting the parts that lived solely on the encrypted hard drives currently back at the Compound. Even so, a small smug grin quirked the corner of her lip of its own volition. She had taken her personal project to find Barnes seriously. How could she not? So of course it was impressive.

“You really have been tracking Barnes a long time,” Sam murmured. Nadine nearly rolled her eyes even as Steve stifled a chuckle at hearing Sam make such a similar comment to his own. She shot Sam an indulgent look.

“Of course,” she scoffed, “Given our respective trades? Not to mention our history. I’d have had to track him down eventually. I knew one day I’d been contracted to hunt him down. It was inevitable. He’s one of the world’s best assassins. Eventually, someone would decide he needed to be taken out. It always happens to the best, even to me. And because I’m another of the best? Because it’s my specialty to go after people like him, like me? It’s a good bet they’d have called in The Ghost. Hell, there’s probably someone out there who was—is—considering it just to see which one of us would come out alive.

“So it became a project between other jobs,” she finished with a shrug, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious and definitely self-admonishing at the way she’d started to ramble, words spilling free before she could stop them. Surprisingly, an impish light glinted in Steve’s eyes as she spared him a glance.

“Because you had no other motivation for trying to track him down.” Nadine nearly started at the teasing tone. Instead she let out a faint huff of a chuckle, pointedly ignoring the way her cheeks threatened to warm again at the way he was looking at her.

“Well, yeah. There’s the other reason too,” she agreed with a wry grin. Steve smiled, looking back to the boards.

But she hesitated then, catching Sam looking to her from Steve’s other side, his dark eyes alight with curiosity. He’d heard Steve’s soft quip. Her stomach twisted as what to say next caught on the tip of her tongue, leaving her painfully conflicted. What did she say? She swallowed thickly as she caught Steve’s concerned look out of the corner of her eye. And before she could help it, the rest came spilling out; if there had been any doubt before that her self-control was effectively shot, it was gone now. “I—I need to find him, Sam… I want to find him…I want to help him…it…it feels like the least I could do after everything he’s done for me…” She could practically feel both men’s eyes on her, but she kept her gaze on the boards, not sure if she could handle Sam’s inevitable look of interest—or Steve’s look of guarded sympathy.

“What did he do for you?” She smiled sadly at the tentative question. Sam recognized a minefield when he saw one. There was nothing for it. It was going to come out sooner or later. And Nadine had to admit that she’d come to trust Sam. She…well, ‘wanted’ wasn’t precisely the right word, but it came closest. It felt like it was time to tell him the truth.

“You know that I ran from the place where Natasha and I trained, from the Red Room, before I could Graduate the program,” she asked, earning a small nod from Sam. She knew he did; Natasha had told her when she’d filled Sam in about their shared past. “Barnes caught me leaving the night I ran, and he let me go…and…and he gave me Nina,” she added softly, finally looking up to Sam’s suddenly bewildered and incredulous face. “Barnes is Nina’s father,” she confirmed, knowing the question would come as soon as Sam got over his initial shock.

“Well damn,” he breathed, turning to Steve, “and I take it you knew that too?” Soberly Steve nodded. Sam let out a gusting breath, glancing between the two of them in a way that nearly had Nadine’s cheeks warming yet again. She didn’t allow herself to glance to Steve. Not even for a millisecond. “Well that explains a few things…certainly what Rumlow was talking about.”

Nadine frowned at that, her resolve not to look to Steve abruptly forgotten. He groaned softly as it hit him what Sam meant, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You heard what Rumlow said to me in Lagos,” Steve said. At once Nadine understood, her eyes sliding shut against the rush of emotion that day still never failed to send through her despite her best efforts. Sam nodded, looking back to the boards, stepping closer to inspect them.

“So you’re really looking for him because of Nina,” Sam said, sparing Nadine a glance. She nodded, subtly clearing her throat before she answered properly.

“Yes,” she confirmed simply, only barely able to keep her voice steady. “And because it feels like the least I can do for _him_.” She swallowed thickly before meeting Steve’s eye. “I owe him everything. How could I not at least try to help him?” Steve’s lip quirked into a small, crooked smile, his hand lifting to brush reassuringly against her shoulder. Her breath caught, his sympathetic gaze seeming to trap hers.

“DC’s up here,” Sam commented absently to himself then, drawing both their attention back to him as he looked briefly back to Nadine with a faint grin, “and the police report that chased him out of town; you did say before that you’d seen it.” He frowned then, looking to her thoughtfully. “That fight in DC on the freeway, that’s up here… You had to have heard in time to head for DC before the whole Helicarrier thing went down.” Nadine sighed heavily, looking to the part of the boards set aside for the Incident in DC and what she now knew was Barnes’ break from HYDRA. The question he left unsaid was clear.

“No, I didn’t go to DC. You have no idea how hard it was not to jump on a plane as soon as I learned he was there. But I was alone,” she said, her tone turning brisk. “For all that he was reckless in pulling Barnes out as an asset, Pierce played it close to the vest. Until rumours made it to me that Barnes had been involved in the Helicarrier Incident on top of the Freeway one? As valuable an asset as he was? I had been sure he would have been whisked out of the country after having the truth of his existence blown wide open like that; HYDRA had managed to keep him as little more than a ghost story for over seventy years, and Pierce blew that. He let the world know the Winter Soldier was real.” She inhaled deeply as she wrestled her thoughts back into some semblance of order as opposed to the rambling she was verging on again. They really had no idea how strained her self-control had been those few days in the spring of 2014. “I…I had no way of knowing what I’d be flying into if I’d jumped on a plane. He had a mission, support, a team of mercenaries at his back. More than that, I had no intel. I had no idea how long he’d been out of cryo, how recently his memory had been modified, the parameters of his mission. There were too many variables. Not to mention the risk it would be for someone like me charging into a city already on high alert for the Winter Soldier. I couldn’t risk getting caught. Not when I still had Nina at home.

“So no matter that it tore me up inside to stay out of it, I held back,” she admitted wearily. “I watched. Listened. Waited for a better opportunity. Then he dropped off the grid and I lost my best chance.” She sighed heavily in remembered frustration from those few months. “Looking back, I wish I had taken it…”

“I know what you mean,” Steve agreed softly. Next to him Sam nodded sedately.

The moment broke with a quiet buzz. Excusing himself, Steve stepped away to answer his phone—Sharon, Nadine concluded from the few words she caught before he moved too far away. At once her heart was thrumming in an uncomfortable mix of dread, anxiety and—irritatingly…still—a flash of jealousy. Swallowing back an annoyed huff at her ridiculous inability to keep her emotions in check, she squashed them aside once more. This really was getting quite tiresome…not to mention potentially problematic. She needed to stay focused.

Instead she forced her attention back to her musing over how best to track Barnes, picking up her tablet again to begin digging into a few trusted avenues to get a sense of options…and tapping into a few places she probably shouldn’t. Thankfully, it wasn’t a difficult mental switch to throw after so many years of practice. Not far away, Sam was sparing her a look from his perusal of her bulletin boards at her movement.

“Tell me straight; do you think you can find him before the JCTTF does?” he asked softly. Nadine paused, looking up to him after a moment. Sam was watching her closely, his friendly features guarded. She inhaled slowly, letting her gaze flow across her boards. Truthfully?

“There are three of us,” she finally said sedately, “and I am the best in the world at what I do.” She met his eye then, just as serious as he was. “But they have the entire world on their side looking for him. I can’t beat that. Even tapping into their network.” His eyes fell to her tablet as she gestured pointedly with it. He sighed heavily, crossing his arms loosely as he looked back to the boards while she returned her attention to her tablet.

“She’s not going to be happy about this…” he muttered under his breath. It was said so softly Nadine nearly didn’t hear him. Nearly.

And her fingers stilled as what he said sank in. At once her pale eyes had snapped up to Sam in surprise.

“Wait, _she_?” she asked deliberately. “Who’s _she_? You’re passing intel on Barnes?” Sam shifted uncomfortably under Nadine’s sudden scrutiny.

“Not exactly,” he hedged.  

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, what exactly?” After a moment he sighed, unable to hold her gaze.

“She’s just someone else looking to find him.” Nadine’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing again, going cold. Sam quickly held up his hands in surrender.

“He was staying with her and she just wants to know he’s safe.” Nadine’s eyes narrowed further still, this time with thoughtful frown as she glanced to the bulletin boards devoted solely to Barnes. When it hit her, she froze for a split-second, a flicker of curious consideration waking in the back of her mind as pieces from her search she had set aside as unimportant re-emerged with a new sense of relevance before she turned to look to Sam, a trace of suspicion still written on her face.

“The landlady in DC? Flower name? I didn’t peg her as a genuine link. She’s on there somewhere,” she said absently as she gestured half-heartedly back to the board. A sound halfway between a chuckle and a groan escaped Sam as he nodded reluctantly.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said you were tracking him. Yeah, her. He stayed with her for months after the Helicarrier thing, using her place as a base, of sorts, as he travelled around to places like Brooklyn, New Jersey…places from his past. Steve thinks he may even have visited his sister in her nursing home before she passed away, but that’s more a gut instinct on his part.” Nadine frowned as she absorbed the former paratrooper’s intelligence, her mind fitting the pieces together. It made a certain amount of sense…but still…there was something more…

“Why would he stay there so long,” she murmured mostly to herself, “if he was lying low to throw off…but that’s still a long time, especially if there was someo—” her eyes went wide then as another thought struck her, a curious flutter waking beneath her breastbone. She turned back to Sam, her eyes sharp and discerning, “he fell in love with her…there’s no other explanation for him to stay in DC for so long. It’s not convenient enough to be a home base, not for the places he’d have gone to visit and even then, it wouldn’t have taken _that_ long to hit everywhere significant or even lose a track.” Slowly Sam started nodding, the answer clear on his face before he even said a word.

“While I don’t know for sure about Barnes’ side of it,” he said carefully, “I got the definite impression that she’s in love with him.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed, causing Sam's eyes to widen slightly with surprise. “So it’s because of her that I thought I’d lost him in DC,” she said dryly, shaking her head, “that I’d missed him leaving. It wasn’t until he started moving again that I realized he really had been lying low. I spent months trying to pick up his trail but, of course, there wasn’t a trail to find because he hadn’t left. Not until that police report…” Sam hummed in agreement. They exchanged a wry grin; they’d commiserated over how close they’d both been thanks to that lucky break only to have Barnes slip away again. It had set Nadine right back on Barnes’ trail again just as it had Sam and Steve.

“That's why you’re so sure about this safehouse theory, isn’t it,” Sam asked thoughtfully. “You think he’s done the same thing he did in DC. Gone to ground. I have to admit, it makes sense.”

Nadine nodded in agreement. “He found somewhere to hide just like in DC, hunkered down and we looked right past him just like we did then. That’s where he’s been these last few months. One of those safehouses. It’s the only explanation.”

“So it’s just figuring out which one on your list is most likely.”

“Exactly. If we find that, we might be able to track him from there.” She looked back down to her tablet, pulling up the list of safehouses and their coordinates. “If his programming was activated, he might go back there out of habit as he reorients. If not…”

“It’s still a solid lead to start from,” Sam said, stepping closer to look over her shoulder as she started striking off the ones they’d already checked and pulling up a map-view with the remaining locations pinned. He spared her a roguish grin. “What would we do if you weren’t here?”

“I’m sure you would’ve managed to figure it out,” she smirked impishly. “It just would’ve taken longer.” He laughed as she considered and added a few parameters for distance and travel times, the corner of her lip quirking as she did.

“The obvious place to start is going to be the one here in Vienna, though I think given what’s happened here, that one’s unlikely as his long-term base. But with his history?” She manipulated the map a bit, shifting the focus. “I’d shift our focus southeast; the Real Estate in Belgrade, Bucharest, Kiev…geographically, they make the most sense. The ones in Minsk and Kharkiv are pushing it, but they’re also good options—” Sam looked up then, realizing Steve had finished his phone call and had made his way back over to them.

“Agent Carter?” Sam asked, earning a confirming nod from Steve. “What’s the plan then, Cap?” Nadine once more ignored the uncomfortable little twist her stomach made, focusing back to her tablet and pulling up the searches she’d been starting before her talk with Sam to give herself something innocuous to do.

“Sharon’s heading up the unit tasked with assessing tips,” Steve explained, his ‘Captain’ persona edging into his demeanour. “She said she should be able to give us a heads up before any actions are taken, but she won’t have much time, so it’s best if we’re close. Apparently there’s a café not far from where JCTTF is set up that should work.”

Sam gave a brisk nod. “Sounds good,” he agreed, mirroring Steve as he took an unconscious step toward the door. Nadine stayed rooted to the spot, looking up just as Steve and Sam picked up on her hesitation. She pointedly ignored the pleased fluttering in her stomach at the way Steve was looking at her.

“Nadine?” Steve prompted with a frown. Slowly Nadine shook her head.

“Now that the JCTTF is involved? I can’t be in the field, Steve,” she said softly. “If you and Sam get caught, you’re both still somewhat protected. You’ll probably get a pass.” She paused, inhaling deeply before continuing, forcing herself to meet Steve’s eye. “I don’t have that. They will make me disappear if they catch me. So as much as it kills me? I have to stay behind the scenes. Anything at the Workshop you think can help is yours. But I can’t go out on this one. I didn’t like how Carter was looking at me.”

“Sharon wouldn’t do anything like that,” Steve assured her. Nadine made a non-committal noise.

“Maybe not, but bringing in The Ghost would be a pretty big deal, Steve. Whether she does anything about it or not, she’s thinking about it. You have to have noticed that; you know her better than I do.” Steve’s jaw tensed and he dropped her gaze. He had noticed something. After a long moment he looked up to her again, inhaling deeply.

“I need you with me on this, Nadine,” he said earnestly. “And not just because I trust you to have my back.” She fought back the urge to swallow thickly at the careless statement. “I know who he used to be. You know what they made him. Between the two of us? We can better handle who he is now.” She sighed. He was right. She knew he was. And it was the argument she would have made were their positions reversed.

But there were more factors at play.

Before she could formulate her counter-argument, though, he sighed, stepping closer as he looked to her thoughtfully, almost plaintively. “At least come with to meet Sharon,” he asked softly. “Neither Sam nor I can vet whatever she brings us as well as you can. I need us to be sure; it’s Bucky’s life on the line.”

Nadine bit back a heavy sigh, her gaze falling back to the tablet in her hands. It was hard enough resisting when it was just for his sake that he was asking…but to bring in her sense of responsibility for Barnes?

This was a bad idea…

She set the tablet on the table.

And she ignored the warmth in her chest at the relief that spread across Steve’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH, and if any of you were a little lost when it came to the 'Flower Name' landlady of Bucky's from DC Sam was referring to? Well, now would be as good a time as any to pop over and check out my other MCU story, Please Stay! It will explain everything ;) And keep an eye out for Nadine! She made her first appearance in that story, after all...


	100. Chapter 25

**Vienna, Austria**

**Spring 2016**

It was actually quite a nice little cafe. Really, it reminded Nadine a bit of the one she and Nina used to go to when they'd lived in Vienna. The latte sitting in front of her was even almost as good.

Really, it was entirely possible that it was every bit as good, if she was being honest. There were just too many external factors tainting the experience, she supposed.

First was that Nina wasn't here to enjoy it with her…she was safe in Cambridge, thank God. They had been texting sporadically since the news had broken about Vienna, and it was a weight on her chest to realize her daughter was shaken enough that she could read it in her anxious messages. Though, some of it had thankfully eased when Nadine and Nina both had heard from Natasha. But seemingly reassured or not, a large part of Nadine wished she was home, so that she could pull her little girl close and reassure her…and herself.

Especially after the scare with Natasha. Nadine wanted to just hold her sister close too, come to think of it. To reassure herself in person that Natasha was safe and unhurt by the attack. She said she was okay and she had assured Nadine she would call again once she knew more. But that didn't assuage Nadine's worry for her little sister entirely. Capable and resilient as she knew Natasha to be, she did still worry, after all. People had died in that blast. People Natasha had been in the same room with. It hadn't been an unreasonable fear, whether Nadine had been compartmentalising it away or not.

But Natasha was safe. So, no matter the lingering worry that likely wouldn't completely dissipate until she saw Natasha again in person, it was a worry that was much more manageable now.

Then there was the threat of Agent Carter acting on the revelation she was The Ghost gnawing away at the back of her mind…why had she thought it would be a good idea to reveal that?

Because it was pragmatic. It was arguably for the same reason she had told Sam about her history with Barnes; Carter was going to figure it out eventually. And telling her willingly? Well, it would hopefully create a sense of loyalty, even if only on a small, unconscious level, since Nadine had offered the knowledge, the secret. It was a calculated risk, sure, but one that Nadine was reasonably sure would serve its purpose given what little she had learned about Sharon Carter. Whether people consciously knew it or not, most were conditioned to treat secrets shared in confidence as contracts of trust, contracts to keep. Since Nadine had 'given' Sharon her secret, she would likely hesitate before sharing it, especially with the strong personal code she suspected Peggy Carter had instilled in her great-niece. And Nadine wasn't one to pass up any manner of advantage.

Add in Sharon Carter's loyalty to Steve and the fact that she was already prepared to break the rules to help him? Nadine wasn't too proud to admit she was tapping into that too. After all, Sharon knew she was helping Steve find Bucky. So that was in her favor too, which helped keep her worries on that front at bay as well.

And then there was the sheer stress of not knowing what was going on with Barnes weighing in on her on top of everything else. She simply didn't know. She tapped at her phone, refining the algorithm she was using; she was fairly confident that she had narrowed her list of potential safehouses Barnes might be using to just two on her list—one in Belgrade and the other in Bucharest—and was now in the process of tapping into each city's CCTV so she could start running some facial recognition. One of the windows on her phone blinked and she knew she had Bucharest; another few taps and the facial recognition program she'd cloned from Stark's servers began its search for Barnes. Yet, she couldn't quite manage more than a grim flash of satisfaction.

Everything about what had supposedly happened in Vienna felt  _wrong_. There was undoubtedly more to what was going on than seemed apparent. That much was obvious. And that was what was bothering Nadine. They simply didn't know enough. And she hated flying into a situation blind. Had he been coerced? Had his programming been activated? If that was the case, was it likely he would still be trapped by its influence when they caught up to him—because they would find him, Nadine affirmed to herself, pushing aside her doubts—or will he have already managed to break himself free of its hold? It was a potentially deadly bit of intel not to have. There was no telling how Barnes' programming would manifest if he was still caught in its hold when they found him.

And if the JCTTF caught up to Steve and Sam as they tried to make contact? Or worse, if the JCTTF found Barnes first? Especially if he was still in the grip of his programming? Especially if he was the Winter Soldier and not Bucky Barnes when they did?

There would be bodies. She knew it in her gut. The Winter Soldier didn't care about collateral damage. Barnes did, but there was no guarantee Barnes would be able to temper the Soldier's brutality if the Winter Soldier was activated. She could hope. After all, Barnes had been out of cryo now for over two years, much of that free from his programming and any memory modifications. She couldn't remember her research pointing to him being awake for so long even once since the fifties. Certainly he'd never gone more than a couple weeks without being subjected to memory modification if she had interpreted some of it—and her own memories—right. Of course, she knew her research wasn't perfect, with a great deal being conjecture, but she stood by it regardless. It was what she'd been trained to do, after all. Given that he'd been capable of breaking through his programming temporarily the night she'd run after only weeks awake and again in DC with Steve's influence after only a couple days awake? Even with memory modifications thrown into the mix? With two years of his mind being his own again, it was possible he would be able to fight off the programming on his own. Certainly with Steve's help, if allowed the chance.

At once she was squashing down guilt at the thought. She had sworn to herself that she would find Barnes. That she would do whatever it took to help him escape as he had helped her. That she would do it for him and for Nina…for Steve too, if she was being honest…and as if that didn't threaten to lead to yet more conflicting and problematic lines of thought…

Once again, she pushed thought of Steve, their almost kiss and what she couldn't help but think it meant—that part of her wished it had been a real kiss and that she wished it meant what she wanted it to mean was entirely irrelevant…inconsequential…entirely foolish…what a futile hope—and the ridiculous way she kept trying to overthink it aside, firmly locking them away in the back of her mind. Now was not the time.

Getting to Barnes was the objective, right now. Everything else could wait.

And now she was preparing to sit out when they  _finally_  had a chance to find him? Her gut churned with shame and self-reproach. As much as she knew why she had to, she just couldn't stop questioning herself. She couldn't stop second-guessing her decision. Her emotions were far too conflicted and potent for her usual rationality in such situations to effectively counter.

Why did it have to be so complicated…

She knew why she had to sit back. Because of their position with the Avengers, even with their refusal to sign the Accords, Sam and Steve were protected. Tony would protect them. She hadn't been kidding when she'd said to Steve that, were they to get caught in their pursuit of Bucky, the two of them would likely walk free. Perhaps with a slap on the wrist or some sort of nominal punishment, but they would ultimately walk free.

Nadine knew that would not be the case for her. If she were to get caught? She knew what awaited her. What awaited The Ghost. She would be locked up at best. There was a chance she'd be able to slip away, to break free and find a way to disappear again if it happened, but there was no guarantee. Her reputation would decidedly work against her were she to be caught, her infamy something that would be impossible to ignore. She had to assume that she wouldn't be able to make a break for it. That whomever caught her would have contingencies that could counter her own.

The kind that left her with the feeling that the rumored floating super-max prison would have a cell with her name on it…

And when it got out that The Ghost had been caught? The more unsavoury of those who would undoubtedly like to get their hands on her would work to do just that. And she would likely end up dead. Whether outright for one reason or another or because she refused to do someone's bidding was irrelevant. The point was that she couldn't afford to get caught.

And that wasn't even accounting for the risk to Nina… Her chest clenched at the idea of what getting caught would do to her daughter. Nina would be devastated. Not to mention the risk that would come along with it. She knew Nina. Nina would fight. She would do anything she could to help Nadine. And she would expose herself in the process. That was something Nadine couldn't risk.

Not even for Barnes. If the man Steve had known, the man that she had caught a glimpse of, was still in there somewhere, he would understand.

But that didn't assuage the guilt.

"Having second thoughts about tagging along?" Sam asked under his breath. Nadine looked up to him where he sat on her right, taking up the second side of the counter corner they'd claimed. She lifted her latte to her lips, pausing just short of taking a drink.

"It's a little more complicated than that," she murmured back before sipping at her drink. It was just on the warmer side of lukewarm. She easily kept from making a face. Sam smiled sympathetically at her response, poking at the pastry in front of him with his fork as he subtly glanced out toward the front entrance of the cafe. A glance Nadine echoed.

Steve was still standing out front, the very picture of someone waiting patiently for a friend to appear. But Nadine knew better. She knew he was subtly watching the UN Response tents nearly a block away, looking for sign of Sharon Carter. Nadine took another sip of her quickly cooling latte.

Only to pause as she went to set the mug back on the counter, a frown threatening as she noticed he had his phone raised to his ear. Next to her Sam frowned, barely resisting the urge to turn around to see what had caught her attention.

"Sharon?" he asked under his breath. Nadine absently hummed a no instead of answering properly, focused as she was on Steve. Sam spared a glance out the corner of his eye, noticing the phone. "Who do you think it is?"

"Natasha," Nadine murmured back, still carefully watching Steve. At Sam's sharp look, even hampered by his dark sunglasses as it was, she explained her reasoning. "I think he's talking about Barnes, and she's the only one other than us he's that comfortable talking about him with." Sam paused, his fork hovering in front of him.

"What, you lip-read too?" he asked skeptically. She spared him a small smirk. Lip-reading had been a skill she never quite got the hang of much to her trainers' chagrin, but by virtue of getting to know Steve as well as she had, she was able to parse out enough.

Not that she was about to admit it.

"Enough," she said enigmatically as she looked back to her phone; another moment and…she was in; Belgrade's network of CCTV cameras was at her fingertips as well. "Natasha's much better at it than I am."

Sam huffed out a small chuckle. "Good to know," he said and took another bite of his pastry. Nadine couldn't help but grin.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nadine recognized Steve as he approached, coming to stand next on Sam's other side where his long cold coffee still sat, only half drunk. At that moment, her phone vibrated, her incoming call screen popping up over the second facial recognition search she was implementing. Nadine sent the call to voicemail after a moment of indecision as Sam spoke up.

"She tell you to stay out of it?" Sam asked quietly, looking up to Steve from the remainder of his pastry. Nadine spared the pair of them a glance as Sam continued. "Might have a point." Steve's chin lifted fractionally. Nadine drew in a slow calming breath. Sure enough, Steve's response was much as she anticipated.

"He'd do it for me," he countered firmly, sparing a quick glance around them.

"In 1945, maybe," Sam pointed out pragmatically. "I just want to make sure we considered all our options." It was said with the best intentions. Sam was just looking out for Steve. But she also knew Sam knew as well as she did that Steve was not going to sit back. Nor did he think he should. She could agree there. In her hand, her phone vibrated again, this time with a text. She didn't even have to look to know who it was from; she could guess exactly who it was…and what it was about. Just as she knew the silent buzzing wasn't going to stop anytime soon…it hadn't since shortly after she had deftly evaded her sister's plea for a promise that Nadine wouldn't do anything reckless about Barnes at the end of her sister's brief call back on the Quinjet.

Not that Natasha hadn't seen right through her, of course.

She slipped her phone into her pocket. There was little more to do with it now but wait for her searches to bear fruit.

"The people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me," Sam added, a faint smirk tugging at his lip as he looked to Steve again. Nadine was tempted to roll her eyes behind her own sunglasses in fond exasperation at the former paratrooper's attempt to lighten the mood.

Not that there wasn't a thread of truth to what Sam said.

"Then we hope there's no shooting," Nadine broke in softly, not wholly in jest. Sam's wry grin turned to her and her shoulder hitched in a small half-shrug. Behind Sam, Steve spared her a quick look that she suspected was silent gratitude. Or admonishment. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses and cap.

She was spared trying to decipher the look though as, just then, Sharon slipped into the café, coming up to the counter not far from Steve.

At once the three of them were all business.

"Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public," Sharon said quietly without preamble, carefully not looking to any of them in an admittedly wise effort to keep their meeting as inconspicuous and unnoticed as possible. "Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it's noise." She paused, and it was then that Nadine caught a glimpse of the file folder she held. Sparing Steve a discreet sideways glance, Sharon set it on the counter, sliding it toward him. "Except for this."

Steve glanced at the file before sliding it on past Sam to Nadine. A quick look was all it took. She closed the file, soberly meeting Steve's gaze.

"There's Real Estate close by," she confirmed quietly. The one at the top of her list, in fact, not that she bothered to say it. It was beside the point, now.

Assuming it was ultimately a viable tip.

Not that Nadine doubted. Deep in her gut she just  _knew_. He was there.

Barnes was in Bucharest.

And deep in her pocket her phone pinged softly, signalling her one of her searches had zeroed in on a potential hit; quite likely a confirmation of Sharon's intel and her instinct that she didn't even need to look at.

Beside Steve, Sharon was subtly watching Nadine with guarded eyes, though her head was tilted slightly in what was undoubtedly curiosity. Something Sam noticed with a faint smirk.

"Yeah, we've been working on tracking him down, too. Ryker here worked up a list of potential places he could be hiding out. We were narrowed down to two. Now one, I guess." Nadine was once more tempted to roll her eyes at Sam's offhanded comments. Funny, it sounded suspiciously like something akin to boasting…about her…an odd little feeling fluttered in her stomach as the corner of Steve's lip quirked in what looked nearly like a proud expression.

"It's amazing how following the money really works," Nadine said under her breath, lifting her mug to her lips. She immediately regretted it, as her latte had since gone unpleasantly cold, but she refused to let it show. Sharon's brows lifted minutely even as she gestured absently toward the file Sam was now looking at.

"And there's one near this location on your list?" Nadine made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat, deliberately meeting Sharon's eye with an assessing look of her own, debating whether or not to elaborate. Sharon had, after all, proven her loyalty, hadn't she? She was helping them, and at definite personal risk too. Surely she could give a little back.

"It's an old KGB turned HYDRA safehouse," she said softly. "Its acquisition was hidden in a bunch of old financial records leaked along with the HYDRA Internet dump. It was listed as defunct elsewhere along with about a dozen others scattered across Europe I've been keeping tabs on." A faintly impressed look flickered across Sharon's face as she considered Nadine's explanation before she schooled her features to professionalism once more, turning her attention forward again.

"My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now…" she informed them, partially glancing their way once more after a quick look to her watch, "so that's all the head start you're gonna get."

"Thank you," Steve said under his breath, still careful not to make it obvious he was talking to Sharon. Next to Nadine, Sam was staring sightlessly at the counter before looking up to Sharon as she continued, caution plain in her tone.

"And you're gonna have to hurry." Sharon finally looked pointedly to Steve, her voice low and grave. "We have orders to shoot on sight."

With that, she edged back from the counter and, within moments, had slipped from the café. Steve's head bowed, his mouth drawn in a grim line.

Setting down his fork, Sam let out a sigh. "We better get moving then," he intoned, looking to Steve. Mutely, Steve nodded his agreement, backing away from the counter as Sam stood. Absently pushing her mug away, Nadine straightened, slipping from her stool to follow the two men from the café.

Exchanging looks of silent consensus, Nadine and the two former soldiers parted ways, Sam and Steve for the Quinjet and Nadine to circle back to her Workshop.

And as soon as they were out of sight, Nadine's gut was churning.

What was she doing?

She was running. The realization hit her like a punch in the gut. That's what she was really doing, no matter how she tried to rationalize it. They needed her…Steve needed her support, and not just from the sidelines. They needed her there, on the ground. Whether she admitted it readily or not, she was part of the Team, now. They saw her as one of them. Could she really turn her back on them?

Not just that, but they finally had a solid lead on Barnes and the world was about to drop on him unless they could get to him first. And what was she doing?

She was slinking back to her Workshop, running from the fight.

All at once she was angry with herself. Near furious, even. Was she really so selfish? This was Barnes'  _life_  they were talking about. The man who had  _saved_  her, who was her daughter's  _father_. God, how could she even be considering not jumping in to help him…an innocent man! Nothing in his past as the Winter Soldier was his fault. She already had enough blood on her hands. She couldn't stomach the idea that anymore of his could further stain her conscience. He didn't deserve that. He had risked everything to help her; she couldn't even bear to think on how much he must have suffered for letting her go. How could she not be willing to risk the same? He deserved so much more from her. How could she even consider not fighting for him?

And it was  _Steve_! As much as she might try to deny it, after Nina and Natasha, Steve was probably one of the people she cared about most. What kind of person was she that she cared more about her freedom than helping her friends? Her teammates?

Steve…

God, he'd understood when she'd said she couldn't risk getting arrested. Sure, not one of her reasons had been anything but true, but that was beside the point. She was The Ghost, for heaven's sake! She was one of the best covert operatives in the world. If anyone could elude whomever they sent after Barnes, she was certainly one of them. Compared to the skill and experience at her disposal? She was more than equipped to evade capture.

She was falling back on her old ways and she hadn't even realized it.

But she wasn't alone anymore.

She was part of a Team.

They needed her.

And Barnes needed her.

Her mind was made up before she'd even realized it was changing.

The instant she had keyed in her access code, she was flying through her Workshop and, one of her Ghost bags and her carefully packed rifle in hand, she was exiting just as quickly.

And then she was slipping down alleys to the abandoned car park where Steve had set down the Quinjet he and Sam had used to reach London for Peggy's funeral. She couldn't help the sigh of relief that shuddered through her at the distinctive sound of the engines spooling up.

She only needed to stand before where she knew the cloaked jet's cockpit was for a few heartbeats. With a flicker and a faint, hissing thunk, the boarding ramp opened. Her fingers tightening on the handles of her rifle case, Nadine circled around to the back of the jet and strode purposefully up the ramp.

"Ryker?" Sam questioned as she dropped her bag and hit the control to seal the boarding ramp. She shot him a sly smirk, carefully hiding the way her gut was knotting with unease and her meticulously–honed instincts wavered over whether or not she was making a mistake.

"I assume you two wouldn't be opposed to me tagging along?" Sam blinked at her casual, even impish remark.

"Nadine?" She finally looked to Steve as he stood from the pilot's seat, his bewilderment clear on his face. "What are you doing?" Her chin lifted fractionally even as her pulse fluttered at the concern in his eyes. She stepped further into the Quinjet, depositing her rifle case on the central bank of seats.

"I'm coming along," she said with an air of finality. "You said that together the three of us will have a better chance of getting Barnes out and I agree." Steve nearly gaped, alarm and relief suddenly warring across his features.

"I, what? Nadine, no. If you get—" She cut him off with a firm look, inhaling slowly.

"I know," she finally said sedately. She smiled wryly then, even if it didn't entirely hide just how serious she was. "But if they're sending in Special Forces after him? You're going to need all the help you can get." Steve huffed out a small laugh, nodding to her point even as Sam shot him a look that clearly said he agreed with her wholeheartedly.

"Then I guess we're on to Bucharest," he said, meeting Nadine's eye before sliding back into the pilot's seat. She fought not to inhale sharply at the intent look in his ocean-hued gaze. It was so much more than simple gratitude that she was backing them up.

"Glad to have you along, Ryker," Sam said as he and Nadine both took their seats. The Quinjet hummed and shuddered around them as it lifted off. Nadine smiled tightly back, switching off her phone, biting back a swell of guilt at the dozen unread texts and voicemails she hadn't listened to from her sister. She didn't have to read them or hear them to know what they said.

"It's the right thing to do," was all she could say back.


	101. Chapter 26

**Bucharest, Romania**

**Spring 2016**

With a grimace of frustration, Steve kicked out the smashed windshield of the police SUV and slid inside, his foot on the gas almost before he had yanked the door shut after him.

This was very much not how this was supposed to have gone…

Though, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that the Germans—a GSG-9 Tactical Unit, if he were to guess—that had been sent after Bucky had been so close behind them. Sharon had warned them, after all, and he had known on some level the UN wouldn't waste a second when it came to the suspect of the Vienna bombing. They couldn't afford to.

Still, he had been hoping for a little more time.

Enough time to extract Bucky and get him safely back on the Quinjet.

But what he hadn't expected? The new, very obviously Enhanced player on the field. Sleek black—and bulletproof—suit, strong, lithe and wicked fast…this new guy was dangerous and he was relentless. Against the GSG-9 unit? They'd still had a chance to make a break for it. Especially with Nadine tapping into the Germans' comms from the Quinjet.

But with this new guy gunning for Bucky?

It changed the game entirely.

"They're closing in, Rogers," Nadine's voice said in his ear. "You're running out of time. You need to get Barnes and you need to get out of that Tunnel. Two minutes max and you're going to be sealed up."

"Copy," he replied, the SUV lurching around him as he floored it after Bucky, keeping a sharp eye on the dark-suited Enhanced chasing him, "You've disengaged?"

"Yeah. I lost the helicopter. You shouldn't have to worry about it for a bit. I'm circling back now." Steve breathed a sigh of relief, both that the GSG-9 team's air support wasn't a factor for the time being and that Nadine had shaken them.

Almost as soon as he, Bucky and the mystery combatant had reached street level, the helicopter—once again levelled out after Sam's interference—had opened fire on all three of them. Only to find itself going up against the Quinjet. Almost as soon as the bullets had started flying onto the street, Nadine had disengaged the jet's stealth mode and positioned it to shield them from fire. Once Steve and Barnes had made the cover of the tunnel, she'd then proceeded to draw off the chopper, darting away before—he assumed—she'd ultimately reengaged its stealth mode and disappeared.

But that only did them any good temporarily. The Quinjet might be faster than the chopper, but the soldiers flying it had to be guessing that Nadine would be heading back toward Steve and Barnes. It only gave them a small window.

His jaw tensed as he considered their remaining options…including the ones he's wanted to avoid using if at all possible. He had been hoping they might be able to jump on the Quinjet once they had Bucky and go…even after the GSG-9s and the new Enhanced had engaged them. Nadine wouldn't even have had to land. But now that the Quinjet had engaged the chopper, revealing they had it as an asset? Now that they were in the tunnel? It was one more option no longer on the table. They were fast running out of options, really.

Steve grimaced, his jaw clenching tighter still. They didn't have a choice. "We need you down here, Ryker," he finally said, his voice firm despite the apprehension suddenly twisting in his gut.

"I know," she replied softly. "I'm already on my way." Despite himself, the corner of Steve's mouth quirked, especially as he heard the faint purr of Natasha's bike through the earpiece as Nadine gunned it. Of course she'd read the situation just as he had. Not for the first time since lifting off from Vienna he was thankful she had decided coming along was worth the risk.

His thoughts were jarred away from Nadine as his SUV lurched, this time from the force of the mystery combatant leaping onto the back. Steve grit his teeth, thinking fast. And hauled on the steering wheel.

But no amount of swerving seemed to dislodge his cat-like passenger.

"I can't shake this guy," he grit out, glancing to his mirrors, taking note not only of the mystery combatant but the fleet of police cruisers and SUVs forming a veritable wall behind him. "Sam? Nadine? Tell me one of you is close."

"Right behind you," Sam piped up even as Nadine responded: "just coming up on the tunnel now, but there's a whole city's worth of police between me and you." Steve nodded absently even as he served again, sideswiping the police SUV that had come up beside his appropriated one. The move didn't result in the outcome he'd hoped; the police SUV just pulled back instead of spinning out and his unwanted passenger just seemed to cling that much tighter.

And a second wall of police vehicles was suddenly ahead, their flashing lights silhouetting Bucky as he abruptly changed directions and vaulted over a barrel barrier.

"Stay sharp," he warned, checking on his unwanted passenger a final time, "both of you. It's getting messy down here." And he sent his SUV crashing through the barrier. The truck shuddered at the impact but roared through. Around him, the police vehicles swerved and skidded, desperate to avoid crashing into each other.

And the cat-like Enhanced was still clinging to the back of his SUV.

"Sam," he called, about to ask if he was close. Only to falter as, ahead, Bucky snatched at an oncoming motorcycle, bodily wrenching it around and leaping astride it in an astonishingly agile move as its rider tumbled to the pavement. "Buck's on bike now, too," he updated tersely, hitting the gas again to close the distance between him and Bucky.

He wasn't quite sure if this was a good development or a bad one…

Likely bad, as he still hadn't shaken the Enhanced still attached to his truck.

And as the cat-like shadow that had been clinging to his SUV was suddenly darting across the roof and propelling himself toward Bucky? Definitely bad. Steve could only watch, heart in his throat, as Bucky fended off his attacker. It wasn't until he was thrown free and Bucky was steadying his bike that Steve felt like he could breathe again, only barely avoiding crashing into the tumbling Enhanced himself. And as he heard Sam confirm that he had them in sight? Steve very nearly let out a relieved breath.

They might just have a chance.

It was then that a hastily thrown charge to the roof of the tunnel detonated even as Sam flew past Steve, only barely pulling up to avoid crashing into the falling chunks of concrete. And the black-suited Enhanced used the abrupt change of speed to launch himself forward from his hold on Sam's leg, disappearing through the falling wall of rubble. But Steve barely noticed.

All he could do was react. He couldn't think, he couldn't panic, he couldn't plan. He just moved. Wrenching on the wheel and slamming on the brakes, he hauled the SUV around, leaping free from the hastily opened door a split-second before the SUV's momentum had it hurtling over the rubble to roll across the pavement like a toy bouncing along the floor.

Just in time to use his own momentum to charge into the black-suited Enhanced as he drew back to strike Bucky, wrenching himself around to heave the interloper bodily away from him and his friend.

As Steve angled himself between Bucky and the Enhanced, police vehicles roared in around them from all sides. Steve tensed, throwing out a hand in warning as Bucky straightened, taking in how their mystery adversary straightened with a predatory grace as over a dozen cars and SUVs screeched to a halt around them, hemming them in. Above, the tell-tale sound of the GSG-9 helicopter reached through the chaos as GSG-9 and Romanian SWAT forces poured out of vehicles, their weapons trained unerringly on Steve, Bucky and their mystery assailant.

It was then that a painfully familiar shape hurtled down from the sky to land with a heavy clunk on the pavement. Steve tensed as War Machine straightened, his palm repulsors trained on Bucky and the black-suited Enhanced. It was then that Steve knew.

It was over.

They were done.

And a crushing sensation of failure began to thrum painfully in his chest. But he swallowed it back. He needed to keep his head or this would only get worse. Inhaling deeply, he straightened, replacing his shield on his back and holding out his hands in compliance. Rhodes' helmet turned to him at the gesture.

"Congratulations, Cap," the Colonel said brusquely. "You're a criminal." Though he obviously didn't know Rhodes as well as Tony did, Steve knew him well enough to catch that he was severely disappointed. More than that, he hated what he had to do, but was resolved to do it anyway. It was something the soldier in Steve recognized and could respect in the Colonel.

As the GSG-9 unit converged on Bucky, Steve could only watch, helpless, as his friend was forced to the ground. No such extreme measures were taken with him and Sam, though. Sam's wings were quickly collected and both were disarmed with brutal efficiency, Steve's shield all but wrenched from its place on his back, but they weren't wrestled into submission. Not the way Bucky was.

Steve was numb. He barely even felt surprise when the black-suited Enhanced removed his helmet to reveal his identity as the Wakandan prince, T'Challa. At least, until he saw the grim conviction in the Wakandan prince's eyes as he looked coldly to Bucky.

It was then that it became clear to Steve; as far as the Wakandan was concerned, this wasn't over. Prince T'Challa intended to kill Bucky. He knew that look in the other man's eyes. Steve's jaw tightened and he levelly met T'Challa's gaze as the prince looked back to him. Not if he had anything to do with it…

Even as a handful of GAG-9 soldiers made to take Steve into custody, Steve didn't back down from the prince's intent scrutiny. He needed to understand that Steve was going to keep fighting to protect Bucky even as—

It was then that a feminine voice sounded in Steve's ear.

And at once Steve was tensing in alarm, panic flooding through his veins like adrenaline.

"I'm incoming, guys: I need a status update." Steve could feel the blood leaving his face. Behind him he could hear Sam swearing sharply under his breath. "Wilson? Rogers? Please respond. What am I riding into?"

They'd forgotten about Nadine.

"Abort, Ryker. Fall back!" Though he said it quietly to keep from drawing too much attention, there was no mistaking the urgency in Steve's voice. But she hadn't heard him, something Steve realized with panic as her voice seemed to ring through his head as it came through the earpiece. Steve spun, nearly knocking over the soldier who'd been in the process of tugging his arms behind his back.

"Repeat? I didn't copy. Steve?" But it was too late and with a revving growl, a compact black bike flew through from the thick, lingering wall of dust and debris, landing with a jarring screech as Nadine caught sight of the police car barricade and the rubble blocking the tunnel. The brakes squealed uselessly as Nadine tried to wrench the bike around in a last-ditch effort to find a way out. Every face had snapped around at the sound of her approach and the German soldiers in her path dove and leapt out of the way as she wrenched the bike around, the rear tire smoking against the pavement. The revving screams of the bike mingled with panicked shouts and bellowed orders as guns were snapping up to fix on Nadine. Even from where he lay still pinned to the ground, Bucky jerked around, struggling to see what was happening.

"Hold your fire!"

"Stand down!" Steve and Sam yelled out over each other as the first few shots rang out. The police vehicles and the pavement took the brunt of the gunfire, not that Nadine's bike was spared. As she slid the bike around in a neat turn to make her escape, one of the shots blew out her rear tire as another two blasted through her engine, one just barely missing Nadine. The metallic scream of the bike lurching out from beneath her drowned out her cry as the bike skidded across the pavement with a shower of sparks. As the two Avenger's voices joined the shouts of the soldiers, it thankfully caused enough confusion to pause the hail of bullets.

But wasn't enough to stop what unfolded in its entirety. Even as Steve and Sam's voices mingled with the gunfire and shouts of the German soldiers and the bike shuddered to a halt, slamming into the police car next to Steve and Bucky with a sickening crunch, Nadine was already moving.

Before the gunfire had even died down, she had leapt from the bike in a blur of pale grey and rolled into a low crouch not twelve feet away from Steve, sidearms flashing into her hand and locked on their targets the instant she realized the suddenly silent gun barrels were fixed solely on her. As the panicked commotion continued to fill the air, there was no mistaking the sheer force of will it took for Nadine to keep herself from opening fire. There was also no mistaking the look of pure panic in her wide grey eyes as they darted about, looking desperately for a way out.

Just as there was no mistaking the way she visibly tensed, her alarm and dismay painfully clear, as her eyes settled on Bucky where he lay, pinned beneath a pair of GAG-9 soldiers. Especially when Bucky looked to her too, his surprise just as clear as hers.

Steve had never seen her look so shaken, not in a situation like this. Not when Nina's safety wasn't involved. It was unsettling.

"Stand down, Ryker!" Rhodes' voice projected above the others, causing them all to quiet at the unmistakably commanding tone. But it still felt like there was too much noise, especially as Sam added his voice to War Machine's.

But it was like she couldn't understand them, her fight or flight instincts warring with her training to the exclusion of all other thought as Nadine was confronted with the realization that she was trapped. Her gaze had yet to still long enough to focus on any one thing or person, still searching desperately for an avenue of escape, a way out of the standoff.

But there was no easy way out, not without bodies hitting the ground. And Steve could see that realization surfacing despondently in her eyes. Knowing what he had to do, Steve stepped forward, fully aware of the guns swivelling his way at the move. But he ignored it, holding out a placating hand toward her.

"Stand down, Nadine." It was his faintly imploring voice that finally got through to her, those normally guarded eyes latching fearfully on his. His heart clenched at the flicker of dread he saw there.

And then the mask slipped into place, her face going blank and her eyes unreadable as rationality returned and her long-ingrained training took over. Straightening slowly, she held her sidearms flat to her palms, hands raised and fingers splayed in a universal signal of capitulation. But it made little difference to the soldiers.

Three of them surged forward, one aggressively yanking the gun from her right hand even as his companion eased the other from her left. The abrupt motion was enough to set off Nadine's defensive reflexes, already perilously on edge.

In a move almost too fast to see, Nadine struck out instinctively, hands grabbing the overly forceful soldier and knocking him flat with a deft twist and kick, just barely restraining herself from turning on the other, her hand closing around his gun and beginning to yank it away from where it had been jerking up to aim at her. Even as shouts began ringing out again and the soldiers' aim on her re-intensified, she was already shoving the barrel away from her grasp, sucking in a frustrated, shaking breath.

And in a series of moves that echoed what he'd witnessed mere moments before, Nadine was wrestled to the ground much as Bucky had been.

Steve's jaw clenched tighter, his chest physically aching as he looked between Nadine and Bucky even as the soldiers next to him restrained his hands; a symbolic gesture more than anything. He knew without even trying the zipties would be much too easy to snap. At this point, though? It was all he could do. Their only option right now was to cooperate.

Things were just going from bad to worse…only to freeze at the wide-eyed, nearly bewildered way Bucky was staring at Nadine. There was recognition there…recognition and disbelief and a flicker of dismay that precisely echoed what Steve felt in that moment.

"Where's the Quinjet," Rhodes demanded firmly as he stepped toward Steve, his tone not brooking any argument even if there was a reluctant thread to it. Sighing, Steve looked to the Colonel before turning to Nadine. The GSG-9 soldiers were pulling her back to her feet, her hands restrained securely behind her back. His suit whirring faintly, Rhodes turned too. Nadine stared impassively back.

After a moment Rhodes sighed. And with a curt gesture, beckoned Nadine forward.

Mercifully, the Quinjet was recovered quickly and without incident, Sam, Steve and Nadine's effects collected and the three of them plus Bucky whisked back to the GSG-9 team's operations base then on to a military plane to Germany and the JCTTF headquarters. But it wore on Steve's nerves to be kept as carefully separate from Nadine and Sam almost from the instant they'd been loaded into different police vans in Bucharest until they were led off the plane and all herded into the same German police van once they'd landed in Berlin. Not that he had any idea what to say to her…

This was his fault…he had pushed her to come along, and now that this had all gone sideways?

It was all Steve could do to restrain himself, his hands fisting tightly as he watched the soldiers load Bucky into the back of a waiting armoured truck. Steve honestly felt ill to catch a glimpse of the heavily reinforced containment cell they were confining him within. Even locked up behind thick, unbreakable glass and physically immobilized by heavy restraints, he had at least five guns trained on him at all times. And for all that her features remained carefully controlled, Steve caught a glimpse of the same dismay he saw mirrored in Nadine's eyes as she was loaded into the van next to Sam. Once again dressed in her civilian clothes as he and Sam were—her pale grey uniform having been stowed away with her rifle, Steve's gear and Sam's wings—he got the sense she was nearly as stunned by the lengths the JCTTF were going to to confine Bucky as he was. Not that anyone else would be able to tell as much to look at her.

But Steve knew her. He could tell. Just as he'd been able to tell how flustered and unsettled she'd been back at her Workshop after they'd both given into the impulse for their fleeting—yet still distracting…and undoubtedly reckless—kiss; he was almost certain he'd seen his own longing for  _more_  despite knowing it shouldn't have happened at all mirrored in her eyes. Or how she had surprised herself by revealing herself as The Ghost to Sharon. Or how she was both furious and frustrated with herself that she'd allowed herself to be caught at all.

And judging by the concerned look Sam had fixed her with? Sam could tell too. Either that, or he suspected.

The door to the van was pulled shut with a resounding thunk once the Soldiers had confirmed T'Challa was settled in the passenger's seat next to the driver, just ahead of Steve.

It was only as the van started to move that he turned, glancing over his shoulder. "You're both okay?" he asked softly. It was meant for both Sam and Nadine, but unable to help himself, his gaze didn't move past Nadine. God, in that moment he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, the caging separating them be damned… Mutely she nodded, her pale eyes stark and unreadable, contrasting sharply against her navy shirt and the dark chocolate leather of her jacket. To her left, Sam murmured out a similar acknowledgement, finally forcing Steve to spare his friend a glance. Sam's expression was grave as he met Steve's eye. He wanted to say something, say something more, something reassuring to both of them, but the words caught in his throat. His jaw tensing with uncertainty, he nodded without thinking at the response, settling back into his seat.

Only for Nadine's soft, emotionless voice to break the silence. Ahead of Steve, T'Challa's head tilted minutely.

"Whatever happens to me, please promise you'll keep her safe." Steve twisted again, looking to Nadine with a faint frown. There was no need to ask who she meant.

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Nadine," he said firmly. She shook her head slowly, her eyes slowly betraying her certainty to the contrary even though her face was still effectively blank. She didn't believe it any more than he did.

"No. I'm done, Steve. Even if your friend doesn't say anything, as soon as they take a good look at my rifle, at my slugs, they're going to know. Even if they don't, don't forget Ultron leaked that 'Nadine Ryker' is The Ghost. I wasn't able to undo that completely. It's only a matter of time. As soon as they realize who I am, they'll make me disappear either into a box or a hole." Her gaze grew almost painfully intent on him.

"I need to know she'll be safe."

"Nina's safe where she is," Steve automatically countered. "She's got Vision and the Maximoffs at the Compound and they'd never let anything happen to her. The Twins adore her…especially Pietro." Steve smiled wryly at the way her nose wrinkled with half-hearted exasperation before he sobered. "Not to mention Stark has grown rather fond of her, himself. He'll protect her as best he can. You won't have to worry about her." He attempted a small, confident smile, then. It almost worked. "We'll figure a way out of this." She smiled wanly at his attempt to reassure her.

"There is no clean way out of this, Steve." She looked over at him, taking in his determined expression. As always, she felt like she could see far more than he wanted her to. "And this isn't your fault. I chose to come along against my own better judgment. This is all on me." He sighed heavily. Trust her to try and shoulder the blame at least in part. She knew him too well.

But this time, it truly was his fault.

"And I'm the one who urged you to look past your better judgment," he countered softly. The corner of her mouth twitched in the shadow of the fondly exasperated smile he had grown to adore. But she didn't argue. And he couldn't tell if it was because she agreed, or that she knew he wasn't likely to change his mind.

Probably the latter, knowing her.

"There's got to be a way—" Sam started then, but his voice failed as she met his eye. A chill went up Steve's spine as her pale gaze turned to him next. He hadn't seen that expression—cool, detached and impassive, her eyes keen, unreadable and unmistakably dangerous—since The Ghost had been active. And he knew with sickening certainty what was likely to happen:

The JCTTF wasn't going to be able to hold her for long… Nadine was expecting to disappear.

For good.

One way or another.


	102. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you haven't tuned in since last Friday, don't forget to catch up on Part II: Chapter 26 if you haven't yet!
> 
> Happy Reading!

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

Steve's jaw had clenched so tight he absently wondered if he was about to crack a tooth, inhaling slowly in a bid to keep his temper from breaking free for real, struggling to keep his cool. He'd already stumbled once, snapping at Stark, his helpless anger lashing free from his hold.

It wasn't wholly for Tony and he knew it. He knew, rationally, that Tony was just trying to play the hand that had been dealt him—all of them really—as best he could. Was he playing it in a completely different way than Steve would have or than Steve thought was right? No question. But Steve wasn't Tony, and Tony was his friend. Even if he was, to Steve's mind, either not seeing or ignoring that he was playing a dangerous game where the outcomes had a very real chance of being only 'bad' and 'worse', Steve did still trust Tony.

It was The Accords themselves he had issues with.

And people like Secretary Ross. Like Agent Everett Ross.

The Joint Counter Terrorism Centre was really quite an impressive building. It had nothing on the Compound, of course, even if it was several times larger, but Steve hadn't been able to help a sense of respect for what he saw. Not that it diminished the guilt and dread that had been sitting in his gut like a jagged lump of stone since Bucharest.

As the van carrying him, Nadine, Sam and T'Challa had pulled up into the huge, brightly lit parking bay, Steve had been hard pressed to restrain a sudden flood of apprehension. Officious looking agents had been flooding into the bay, including Sharon. For a split-second, Nadine's fear had echoed in the back of his mind, the thought that Sharon might have felt duty-bound to report what she had learned about Nadine surging forward. But the thought had quickly been shoved aside. He trusted Sharon and her convictions, and his instincts when it came to such things were rarely wrong. She wouldn't betray his trust like that and she hadn't as far as he could tell. Not that the feeling of apprehension had entirely faded at the reassurance.

But it had eased minutely as, upon opening the door, the soldier waving them out of the van didn't make any move to cuff or restrain any one of them. It was a promising development.

At least, so Steve had hoped.

Of course, the hope had been dashed.

And now he had one more potent fear weighing on him. Now he wasn't just fearing for Bucky, but Nadine too. His fears were beginning to prey on him and he knew it. It was making what T'Challa had said back in the van as they'd approached the JCTTF Command Centre all the more haunting.  _How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me_? It had only reinforced what he'd pegged about T'Challa's intentions back in the tunnel. T'Challa had no intention of backing off in his single-minded quest to take out his vengeance on Bucky for the death of his father. It weighed on him just as the precariousness of Nadine's situation and the bleakness of Bucky's did.

And proved prophetic, in a way, about Nadine too. It had been a harsh reminder that he hadn't been able to keep Bucky safe…that there was a very real chance that he  _wouldn't_  be able to keep Bucky safe. That he wouldn't be able to help his best friend when he needed him most…

And that he couldn't help Nadine either.

The reality of the trouble they were all in had been driven home as, stepping out of the van, he looked over to see Bucky within his containment unit, barely visible for all the over-the-top restraints and reinforced structure of the pod. It was like being shot in the gut all over again to see just how resigned and even accepting Bucky looked, watching with sightless eyes as the agents, soldiers and technicians milling around him prepared to move the unit deeper into the facility. Even the fleeting feel of slim fingers squeezing lightly on his wrist hadn't helped. The visibly haunted way Nadine had been unable to keep herself from staring at Bucky herself had seen to that.

And the gravity of the situation had been further enforced as Agent Ross had turned to Nadine after he'd informed them their gear was to be impounded. Steve couldn't forget the nearly smug quirk to the shorter man's grin, tensing once more at the memory of what he'd said to her.

"So, Ms. Ryker. Either you have a very interesting story to tell us about where you got your ammunition, or you have a rather, shall we say,  _ghostly_  secret life."

"It's not all that interesting, really," she had quipped back dryly. Steve's stomach had lurched and it was only the subtle press of Nadine's arm against his where she stood on his right that had kept him from instinctively stepping in front of her. A grin that Steve could only describe as sarcastic had tugged crookedly across the man's mouth at her response. He hadn't been phased in the slightest. Agent Ross glanced to the set of agents waiting just off to the side, jerking a nod toward Nadine.

"Take her into custody."

And Steve's blood had run cold. And it had only been a sharp, warning glance from Nadine that had stopped him from angrily protesting. Even Sam had looked furious, his fists clenching at his sides much as Steve's had. Next to Agent Ross, apology had flashed across Sharon's face, her head shaking minutely when Steve had looked to her in question as she'd pointedly stepped forward to follow Agent Ross' order before one of the other agents had; she hadn't told.

He hadn't wanted to believe it in the van when Nadine had said it was precisely what was going to happen. Even though he knew she'd been right, he'd still hoped…

But that had been nothing to what Agent Ross had piped up with next, an air of careless interest injected into his tone.

"So where's your daughter?"

She hadn't reacted save for the faintest of frown lines to appear between her brows, the perfect appearance that Nadine was only mildly perplexed by the question, finding the ties Sharon had been placing around her wrists and the way she'd kept a hand on Nadine's arm as she'd turned to stand beside Nadine far more interesting. But Steve had known better. When she answered Agent Ross with a 'sorry, who?', he had heard the barely there ice in her voice. And he could've sworn he felt her apprehension and her fury and her confusion. Or perhaps he had simply been projecting his own feelings in that moment.

They weren't supposed to know about Nina.

"Your daughter," Agent Ross had continued, oblivious to the—admittedly near imperceptible—danger signs. "You know, the assassin-in-training? The one we have record of living with you in Vienna? I'm assuming that's what she is, given her maternal role model." Nadine kept her face carefully blank, saying nothing. But Steve could imagine from the way her eyes had grown hard and sharp and utterly blank that internally her anger had been fanned to life in a blazing surge. "Were both of you planning to just, what, pretend the Accords don't apply to you?"

"Both of us? According to who," Nadine had asked coolly back, her eyes having narrowed. A huffing sound that reminded Steve of a skeptical snort had escaped Agent Ross at that.

"Forgive me, Ms. Ryker," Agent Ross had said with a patronizing cast that had put Steve's back up, "but considering what we've managed to dig up? We rather suspect your daughter should be similarly bound by the Accords. In no small part, I think, thanks to you." Steve's mouth had gone dry in that moment, the urge to step up and back the JCTTF Deputy Commander off swelling in his chest. Especially at the way Nadine's eyes had flashed with a trace of fear for a split-second before she had it tamped back down.

But not fast enough to keep Agent Ross from seeing.

"What's that supposed to mean," she'd said then, her voice icy level and laced with warning. Agent Ross had just grinned mildly. Sharon had shifted uneasily next to Nadine then, her jaw tensing minutely in a way that reminded Steve of Peggy when she thought someone around her was making a critical mistake. He'd thought little of it at the time, but now Steve couldn't help but wonder if Sharon had caught onto just how close Nadine had been to snapping.

"Nice. Playing ignorance," Agent Ross had chided, the patronizing cast having returned in full force. "You really think we wouldn't figure it out?" And Nadine had paled, her lips thinning while Steve had felt the bottom of his stomach drop clear to his shoes. Mercifully, Agent Ross had continued, and Steve had been hard pressed to restrain a sigh of relief.

"Trained the way you were?" Agent Ross had said nearly dismissively, "do you really expect us to believe you haven't been teaching her everything you know? Nina Ryker was one of the youngest black belts in Vienna in two different disciples—only the tip of the iceberg, I rather suspect. Not to mention some of our experts suspect you have a little something extra in your system making you genuinely Enhanced."

It was then that Nadine had leaned minutely against Steve, something akin to consideration flickering in her eyes that she'd quickly hidden along with her relief. Steve had only barely caught it just as he hadn't quite been able to withhold a frown as Ross had continued, only to catch onto what Nadine had obviously picked up as he did. "Something a simple blood test will confirm, I'm sure… Something that might even have given her a little boost too…if she really is you biological daughter, of course. In which case, it's not just the skill-set you most likely taught her that qualifies her." Agent Ross had smiled then, the expression such that Steve abruptly realized what had been happening.

Ross didn't know everything. In fact, it seemed he barely knew anything. Not definitively, at least. Even Steve, without the same training Nadine had, had been able to tell then that most of what Ross had was conjecture. A gamble.

Something Nadine had realized the instant Ross had elaborated on what he 'knew.' Steve had a feeling now that Agent Ross had been angling to set the foundation for a deal. Probably hoping Nadine would spill her secrets.

Well, that was unlikely to happen.

It was a small relief.

One of a precious few. Outside the conference room he was stuck in with Tony, Natasha was pacing in a deceptively mindless fashion. She was angry and she was scared and she kept sneaking subtle glances to Steve like she couldn't quite decide whether she was angry with him or not.

He rather suspected it was trending toward angry, given the how she had responded to his 'he's alive' response to her admonishment about making things worse by sharply countering with a low, dangerously calm "yeah, and my sister's locked away."

As if he'd needed any more reminding just how badly he'd screwed up.

Not that he was the only one…

His jaw clenched as he met Tony's eye. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't entirely fault Tony for his stance. He'd been on the verge of signing a mere moment earlier, after all. He thought they'd finally understood each other. That they were finally on the same page.

Until Tony had mentioned the Twins…specifically when he'd used the same damn allusion to weapons as Secretary Ross had about Wanda…

That was when he'd nearly lost control of his already simmering temper.

And the symbolic pen Tony had held out as a peace offering now lay where Steve had dropped it back on the table, suddenly feeling weary as everything that had happened the last couple days threatened to crash in on him.

First the Accords, then Bucky's alleged bombing and subsequent capture, Nadine's arrest and now to learn the Twins were under virtual house arrest?

It was just too much.

Dammit, why couldn't Tony just  _see_  he was making a mistake? Couldn't he see what was happening? He could see clear as day that Tony thought he was genuinely protecting Wanda by keeping her confined to the Compound—just as he was suddenly wondering with a sick feeling if, perhaps Tony hadn't already been confronted with a 'worse' option for Wanda—just as he knew—he  _knew_ —Tony was convinced going along with the Accords was the right thing to do…that he could fix them. It was noble to want to fix them, to make them work knowing their intent.

But.

Some things just couldn't be fixed. And as hard as Tony might be trying, the Accords just were shaping up to be just that: too broken to be fixed. It was why Steve  _knew_  they were wrong for all that they sounded right. And that feeling seemed to be growing stronger all the time.

It felt just like S.H.I.E.L.D. all over again…

But then, Tony hadn't been there for that.

He let out a heavy sigh, then, pausing as he turned from Tony.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to walk from the glass-walled conference room without another word, there was one more thing he needed to ask.

Especially as her face, that moment before he'd given in and kissed her, however tentatively—even  _knowing_  he shouldn't, that it would spook her…and that pursuing her before he'd had a chance to talk to Bucky risked hurting his best friend further still—when her eyes had said so much more than he suspected she'd realized…

…the horrible moment she'd realized there was no way out back in the tunnel…

…how she'd looked up at him in the sanctuary, and how vulnerable yet resolved she'd looked as she'd pulled away…

…the moment when he'd known she was going to agree to come with them to the café…

…the determined look on her face when she'd stepped into the Quinjet…

They all flashed before his mind's eye.

He owed her that much…

Without turning, he looked back over his shoulder just enough to catch Tony in his peripheral vision.

"What about Nadine?" Tony refused to look at Steve, his jaw clenched in mixed dismay and irritation. But after a moment he let out a low breath, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"What about her?" he asked tersely, not quite able to disguise how weary and stressed he too suddenly felt. Steve struggled against the urge to sigh as he turned, bracing his hands lightly against the back of the chair next to him.

"C'mon, Tony," he admonished, feeling just as tired of all this as Tony obviously was. How had it come to this… "You know what. Is there anything you can do to help her?" Tony shot Steve a look that was both curiously despondent and cynical.

"Unlike the rest of you—save Barnes, of course—she is actually a criminal, Rogers." He didn't bother pointing out they'd both known it, but the reminder was clear on his face regardless. "She killed people for a living…outside the law," he clarified at Steve's challenging expression. "Even if you could convince her to sign the Accords, there's no way she's walking out of here free and clear." Steve inhaled deeply, fighting back the renewed surge of guilt that rose in his chest, his gaze dropping back to the table.

"There's got to be  _something_ —" he finally grit out, only for Tony to interrupt him sharply, his already strained patience reaching its end.

"There isn't, okay? Believe me, I tried." And as irritated—furious, really—as Steve was with his friend, he couldn't help but believe him. Petty and selfish as he often projected himself to be, Tony had always been willing to do whatever it took to protect his Team…and Steve knew he counted Nadine as part of the Team, now. Tony stood, nearly glaring at Steve but for the flash of helpless frustration in his eyes. "Look, Rogers, I know your little crush is 'retired' and on our side now, but as soon as the JCTTF made the connection that she was The Ghost, all options flew right out the window." Unable to help himself, Steve finally did sigh, the sound heavy and dismayed, his head falling forward as he leaned further against the chair. He couldn't even be bothered to spare Tony an admonishing look or even an eye-roll for referring to Nadine as his crush…again; he was far too worried about her.

Though, his stomach flipped a little as the memory of her hand on his arm, her cheek beneath his fingertips and her lips ghosting against his surfaced despite the poor timing.

He'd known what the answer was going to be before he'd even asked, but he'd had to at least try. After a moment Tony sighed too. Steve tilted his head at the sound, unable to quite convince himself to look up properly.

"Look, I might be able to swing it so she can see Nina," Tony offered, his voice low and nearly drained; Steve could sympathize with the feeling intimately in that moment. "But that's—"

"You know that's not going to fly, Tony," Steve broke in softly, "she'd sooner swear she didn't have a daughter and never see Nina again then risk Nina's safety like that. Especially after Agent Ross dropped it on her that they knew about her." A sharp exhale that sounded suspiciously like a muttered curse escaped Tony. As Steve looked up, Tony was nearly shoving his tinted glasses on, his lips thin and his features drawn.

"Then there's nothing I can do," he said briskly.

And with that, Tony slipped from the conference room.

Without actively watching him, Steve nevertheless tracked Tony as he circled around to where Natasha had finally settled off the corner of the conference room closest to where Steve stood. He only looked up when he caught Tony coming to a stop next to Natasha. And he knew when he had informed Natasha of Steve's resolve not to sign.

He forced himself to look up as she turned, her face unreadable as he met her eye. No, not exactly unreadable. He just couldn't quite decipher what the expression on her face meant. It was something between disappointment, dismay, annoyance and resignation.

Though he hadn't thought it possible, when she looked away, the weight of his guilt and regret grew heavier still.

He'd never wanted any of this…but she knew he couldn't just back down.

But not for the first time, he was considering if, perhaps, maybe he should…if maybe he needed to reevaluate…

He dismissed the thought, though. He couldn't. The Accords were wrong. He got where Tony and Natasha and Rhodes and even Nadine had been coming from. Really he did. And had the call for oversight come at them in a different way, perhaps he might even have been convinced to accept it; he was a soldier, after all, and the idea of being part of a larger hierarchy was still vaguely comforting. But as they were framed? Given all the requirements and restrictions and caveats the Accords contained? Given the dangerous potential for abuse they posed? Given how quickly they'd been pushed through? How purely reactionary they were?

He'd been used before. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

He just couldn't stand down.

Out beyond the room he was closed up in, the wall of monitors were one by one being turned to the chamber where Bucky's containment unit had been stowed. It looked like they were about to start the psychological evaluation Agent Ross had mentioned; a table had been set up facing Bucky and someone Steve presumed was a psychologist was settling himself behind it. One screen in particular, toward the upper left of the array of blue-tinted of screens, was focused closely on Bucky. Steve's gut clenched once more, the uneasy churning from before when he'd watched the JCTTF personnel unloading the reinforced pod returning with a vengeance.

He didn't deserve this…and a sense of failure so potent it felt like yet another punch in the gut hit Steve at the blankly grim set to his best friend's face.

They'd been so close to getting him away.

Behind him, he heard the muted sound of the conference room's door swinging open on its meticulously maintained hinges…naturally it was as well oiled as the whole JCTTF headquarters seemed to be.

Steve looked back as Sam walked in followed closely by Sharon, easily picking up and decoding the questioning look on his face. Silently Steve shook his head in reply.

"Damn," the former paratrooper muttered. He took a deep, frustrated breath before looking over to Steve again. "I think we might have played this wrong, Steve." Steve sighed heavily, no longer possessing the energy to keep up the stoic front he'd attempted to maintain around Tony. He'd been thinking the same thing since the conversation in the van.

"I know, Sam. But we didn't have any better options," he said softly. It was a poor rationalization, but it was somewhat true.

"I'm not so sure of that anymore…" Sam murmured almost apologetically, his shoulders slumping as unease shadowed his face. Steve's gut tightened further. But he didn't respond. He couldn't. He needed to stand strong. Even in the face of his own doubts.

That was easier said than done as he looked up to the screens again, Nadine's bleak expression despite her calm facade as they'd taken her away fixed in his mind's eye even as he watched Bucky's equally bleak and resigned—and haunted, Steve noticed with a pang—features.

This was wrong…Steve nearly frowned at the feeling…something was off. His instincts were whispering that there was something wrong here beyond what had already happened, beyond Bucky and Nadine's imprisonments. He just couldn't quite pinpoint it. Sam pulled out one of the mesh-backed conference chairs, settling into it as a distinctly unhappy cast came over his features.

"Nina's going to be devastated," he murmured, glancing without truly seeing between Steve and Natasha where she stood, back turned to them both.

"I know," Steve replied quietly, feeling utterly dejected.

Yet another reminder of how badly he'd messed up. It didn't help that he was staring at Bucky, unable in that moment to keep from recognizing the features he shared with his daughter…they really did have the same colour eyes…and the barest hint of a cleft to their chins…and there was something about Bucky's brow that Steve believed he shared with Nina…

Sharon paused next to Sam, the papers in her hand rustling slightly as she turned to Steve.

"Nina?" Sharon asked softly, snapping Steve from his dismayed thoughts. He subtly shook his head, pulling his thoughts back to where they needed to be. He was getting distracted. He needed to figure out what was off; he couldn't fight the sense that it was crucial…

"Nadine's daughter," Sam offered just as quietly. But as soon as Sam said it he tensed, glancing to Steve as he realized his slip. Steve shot Sam a reprimanding look, frowning at the blunder, but Sam easily noticed there was no bite, taking in the way his shoulders slumped minutely. It's not like the JCTTC didn't know Nadine had a child. Sharon had been there, after all, when her boss had outright asked her about it just before Nadine had been arrested.

Nodding slightly in understanding, apology once more surfacing in her eyes, Sharon spared Steve a final look before finally handing Sam the papers she was holding.

But Steve paid it little mind, barely noticing as Sam grumbled about what they had called his gear on the receipt he'd been given, having already turned back to stare out at the wall of monitors.

He was already beginning to mull over everything that happened, analysing everything that had played out as objectively as he could. The answer was there. He'd just been so focused on getting to Bucky and then distracted by Bucky and Nadine's arrests that he hadn't taken the time to really think things through.

And before he could help himself, a faint grin quirked at his lips.

He could just picture the admonishing look Nadine would be giving him right now if she knew he had allowed himself to get so distracted when there were actual stakes involved.

With that thought to motivate him, he turned his thoughts back to the task at hand.

He only hoped he realized what he'd missed before it was too late…


	103. Chapter 28

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

Natasha wasn't sure which emotion was stronger just now: anger or terror. And it was growing increasingly difficult to keep both in check. She couldn't imagine how much of a mess she'd be in if it weren't for all her training in keeping herself objective, in keeping her emotions securely in hand.

Then again…if it weren't for her training, she wouldn't be in this position in the first place.

She would've grown up, a normal girl living a normal life…

Moot point, though. She was who she was and she was in this situation now. And her terror and anger were successfully contained so that if they presented outwardly at all, they came across as concern and annoyance only.

No, wallowing in her fears for her sister and Steve and Sam and in her anger at all three of them getting themselves into this mess when they should've known better—and for threatening what they'd all had at the Compound, if she was being honest—wouldn't accomplish anything.

Now, it was going to be up to her and Tony to get them out of this.

God, how had this all gone so wrong?

What made it worse? She couldn't exactly say she didn't understand what had driven them to do what they did…to go after Barnes. She knew when she'd asked Steve to stay out of it, for him and Nadine both to stay out of it—her sister had ignored her plea and her messages to do just that, so Steve had been her last chance to get through—that it had been a fool's hope that they would. And he hadn't been wrong when he'd said between him and Nadine, they had the best chance of bringing Barnes in. Natasha  _knew_  that. But to get involved now?

And that wasn't even accounting for the personal reasons that would compel both her friend and her sister to go after Barnes. Not with the history there. Not with Steve's friendship and Nadine's debt and Nina's very existence in the mix.

Still, she had hoped they would both see reason…that they would see rushing in would only make things worse for all of them, including Barnes.

She'd hoped that they wouldn't risk breaking up the Avengers.

She wasn't keen on the Accords either. She saw exactly what her sister did. They had debated and discussed and even argued the Sokovia Accords at length after Secretary Ross had presented them with the reality that the Accords were coming, both with the rest of the Team and between the two of them. She knew there were deeply troubling components and risks built into the variety of sanctions and regulations. But that it was the UN? That had to balance out the risks. It was a quickly drawn-up document. Of course there were going to be problems to start out. She'd known that before she'd even read them. It was a hugely reactionary document. Of course there were going to be issues to fix.

But they were already law. That was what she and Tony seemed to get that the others didn't. There was only so much to be done. There were only so many options. And getting shut out by refusing to sign them? It made a statement, to be sure, one Natasha could respect Steve for deciding to make given the kind of man he was and how strongly she knew he felt. Compromising on things as important as the Accords? It wasn't something he could do. And she could respect that. In some ways, Natasha was jealous that his convictions were strong enough to take that stand.

But that stance wouldn't change anything. In this climate? Given the poor public perceptions Enhanced people and their allies were facing? Steve's stance easily had the potential to make things worse. No, changing things was what working from the inside would do. What compromise would allow them to do. This was what she'd been trained for. To infiltrate, to learn and to influence. The Red Room training hadn't just been about killing, after all. It had been a big component, yes, but there was more to being the kind of master operative she had been moulded into than just fighting and killing.

What they needed to do at this point was to make the Accords work for them. To use them as Steve feared they intended to use him…them. It was the only viable option they had. And the things that needed to be changed could only be changed from the inside.

As she'd said to Steve, they needed to keep one hand on the wheel.

It was what she and Tony both saw. Though he was intent on the Accords as a step to fix the mistakes they'd made as best they could and make sure they didn't make the same mistakes again—and to alleviate his guilt as well, she knew full well—Natasha was far more pragmatic. Arguably more selfish, too, which was saying something. In many ways, Tony's motives, his conscience aside, were more noble than hers. He was fully aware of the cost of the Team's—and his own—mistakes and he was looking to make the responsible choice and make things better—safer—going forward for everyone, not just the Avengers. She just wanted to protect her Team. She wanted to save her Team. Tony did too, of course, but he was also concerned with making amends and improving how they did what they did.

Natasha was more in Steve's camp on that score. Yes, they'd made mistakes, but on the balance, they had done far, far more good than bad. And yes it concerned her that the Avengers wouldn't be wholly independent. Even before S.H.I.E.L.D.'s implosion she'd been leery of authority and the dangers of corruption. True, it wasn't quite so doom and gloom a situation as Steve made it out to be. It wasn't like the committee set up to oversee the Avengers was intended to actually dictate what they did or when they fought; it was just meant to make sure they were circumspect in their calls to action, that they could defend their decisions and to call the Team on their mistakes and make sure appropriate reprimand was given if they overstepped. In theory, what was so wrong with that? The Accords would protect the Team when the inevitable casualties came whenever the Avengers were called onto the field.

Of course, that wasn't what Steve was concerned about. He was concerned about the power the Accords would have being abused. With good reason. Natasha was well aware that it was a possibility. She had been there in DC, after all. She had testified in front of the world about how the dangers Steve was even now fearing about the Accords had nearly become a reality because of HYDRA's infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D..

But the Accords were ratified! That was what she felt Steve wasn't seeing. They were law. Whether he signed or not, what he feared could still happen, and how was he intending to stop any collapse if he didn't have the access to the infrastructure?

And now he was on the other side of the law in a definitive way that the Avengers had never quite been. Not to mention he'd taken Nadine and Sam with him.

Natasha bit back a sigh. Steve and Sam would probably come out of this alright, really. A slap on the wrist and their gear confiscated. Though, if she and Tony could get through to Steve? Perhaps…maybe they could both come home.

Because the Team needed to stick together.

Natasha knew Steve had understood why she'd told him about her search for her parents back in London. She knew he did. Just as he knew the significance; the only others she'd told were Nadine and the Bartons—her family.

But really, the whole Team was her family.

He had to know how important it was that they all stay together. Especially now, when the world was one more mistake from turning against them all.

She just hoped Bucharest hadn't been that mistake…

Sam had sighed when she'd said as much to him, urging him to try and convince Steve that signing was the Team's best hope. That it was the only way to change anything about the Accords.

"But how much will signing really change," he'd said softly looking down at her, apology written all over his face. "It won't protect Barnes, and it won't help Nadine. And right now? That's all he cares about; protecting them." Her chest had clenched. And hurt and anger had swelled enough that she'd nearly lost her hold over it. Something Sam had noticed, his hand lifting to lightly squeeze her upper arm. She'd leaned into the contact, appreciating the small attempt at comfort. He knew it was a hard situation for her much as she had been feeling he'd forgotten in the face of his unwavering loyalty to Steve.

"But it will help the Team," she'd said softly, the added aside that it would help her too unspoken; he'd heard it anyway. "And together we can help him—them. But we can't help him or Barnes or Nadine if he goes rogue…if you both go rogue…" Her voice had nearly broken and for a split-second it had looked as though he was about to pull her against him. But he hadn't, knowing full well that she was Agent Romanoff and not just Natasha in that moment. That such familiarity wouldn't help her the way she needed just then.

Later, she could imagine needing it, though.

But now was not later. She had no idea when later would be. She just had to keep her head indefinitely. To keep trying to find a way out of this.

There was still a chance they could all go home…except Nadine…

Why had she gone with to Bucharest? That one simple question infuriated Natasha nearly above all others. Surely Nadine had at least recognized that there was no stopping the hunt once Barnes was on the JCTTF's radar. They couldn't stop it any more than they could stop the Accords. He was the Winter Soldier. He had to be brought in, especially after what he'd done in Vienna.

Not that Natasha had anything against him. Sure he'd nearly killed her a couple times, but it wasn't like it had been personal. He just hadn't had a choice. She was one of the few who understood intimately what it was that had been done to him. But she also understood why the world held him responsible for the things he'd done, programming or not. The world didn't understand programming. They just saw culpability. Really, she was still blown away on some level that she hadn't been held accountable, much less penalized or even incarcerated for the things she'd done in the grips of her own programming years before, sanctioned operative or not. And her programming hadn't been nearly so intensive or mind-altering to the same degree as his, after all. Not by a long shot.

No, by all measure of the word, Barnes was effectively innocent in all this. He wasn't truly responsible for the things he'd done. Not the way she had been. Not the way Nadine was.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to be held accountable.

There were some cruel, unfair realities that just couldn't be stopped.

And the thought hurt. Not only did she feel for him, she also felt like she owed him on some level. After all, when it came right down to it, he was the reason she still had her sister, and that she had her niece. But at the same time?

It was because of him that there was a good chance her sister was going to be locked up for the rest of her life.

That her niece might never see her mother again.

Oh, God…what was she going to tell Nina…

Natasha nearly choked as her terror and dread once more made a bid to break free. It was strong enough that she nearly allowed herself to wish she'd taken up Sam on his silent, unrealized offer of support and comfort. But after a moment, it was firmly tucked away once more, her emotions back under control…again.

There was nothing Natasha could do right now, so what was the point in allowing herself to fall apart. It's not like doing so would change anything. Her sister was locked away in a room somewhere, waiting to find out her fate. Unlike Steve and Sam, even if she were to agree to sign the Accords…it wouldn't change anything. Not for Nadine. She'd never be given that option. There had been good reason why she hadn't signed in the first place. Unlike Steve, Nadine didn't have the luxury of choice when it came to the Sokovia Accords. Natasha couldn't deny that Nadine's hands had been tied.

For exactly the reason they'd all feared. Nadine had chosen not to sign to try and avoid precisely what had happened to her because she'd gotten involved. Natasha's lips thinned before she could help it, an irritatingly inconvenient, warm burn trying to form behind her eyes.

She inhaled slowly, reinforcing her hold on her emotions one more time. She was calm. She was rational. She was patient. She needed to see how things were going to fall out before she acted.

Precisely what Steve and Nadine should've done.

There was no point reacting until she knew what she would be reacting too.

Out of the corner of her eye she took note of Prince—though, she supposed King was more correct, now—T'Challa still sitting on his own in one of the offices hemming in the main floor of the Command Centre. Even without having heard from Sam what the man had said in the trip to the JCTC, the Wakandan's fixation in Barnes was hard to miss even as it was troubling. But then, Barnes was responsible for his father's death. She'd never had a parent killed in front of her and neither was she Wakandan. On top of the powerful grief she could imagine came with such a situation, she was well aware that different cultures the world over had different ideas of what was required to avenge a loved one. The question now was what kind of justice was actually entailed. Given what she'd read from his words and his bearing back in Vienna and over in that office? She'd thought she'd had a pretty good idea…but now she couldn't be entirely sure. The man was harder to read than she'd realized.

And enlightening as it had been, talking to him again hadn't seen quite the return she'd hoped.

"So, I suppose when you said you'd do it yourself, you meant you'd do it yourself," she had said as she slipped into the room earlier, crossing to hitch a hip up on the arm of the black couch across from T'Challa. A mild, though faintly tense smile had curled his lips. It had nearly come across as patronizing, save that it lacked the dismissive cast.

"You're not used to the truth, are you," he'd asked thoughtfully, eying her back as she studied him. To some extent he was right. But that wasn't it. Not exactly.

Natasha had honestly been speechless when she'd found out that, along with Nadine, Sam, Steve and Barnes, T'Challa had also been picked up in Bucharest. And she hadn't wholly believed it until she saw him striding along the concourse of the JCTC right alongside Agent Ross, Steve and Sam. When he'd said he intended to go after Barnes, she hadn't doubted his conviction. Only a fool would've doubted he'd meant to ensure Barnes saw justice for his father's death.

She just really hadn't expected him to mean he literally intended to go after Barnes himself.

Even talking about his Vibranium suit hadn't been enough to draw him into conversation. All he'd been interested in was Barnes.

"How long do your psychological evaluations usually take?" was all he'd said in response to her carefully conversational comments about his suit.

And, of course, Natasha hadn't realized right away just how serious he was when he'd answered her quip of 'why, you bored?' with talk of catching planes…with Barnes coming along for the ride.

She hadn't realized that, in labelling him as naïve for thinking such a development would be possible, she'd been just as guilty of the charge.

Agent Ross' slow clap and faintly astonished announcement only moments later that T'Challa had been granted extradition for Barnes had made that abundantly clear. As did T'Challa's sly smile as he'd turned back to her when Agent Ross left the room once he'd passed along the news.

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff," T'Challa had said, a nearly indulgent cast to his tone, "I'm sure I have much to learn."

It was then that she'd realized just how good the Wakandan Prince—King was.

And just how grim things suddenly looked for Barnes.

It was also then that she'd realized that the risks inherent in the Accords as they stood now were coming into play far earlier than she'd hoped.

Oh, it was bad news…her gut twisted for Barnes as she watched his psychological assessment play out on the screens before her. Being locked up was one thing; that was the outcome she'd been hoping for with Barnes. Cooperation and treatment could see that mitigated and even reversed with time.

Death was a little more permanent.

But what could she do? There was nothing to do. Not without risking the Accords coming down hard on whoever tried anything. This had to play out. She'd known that. She'd known as soon as Barnes' face had been plastered all over the news. It troubled her. Really, if she was being honest, this whole situation was troubling her. For so many reasons, some of which, she could put her finger on…others…others were more elusive.

But one thing was certain; it was concerning that the Wakandan had been able to play ball with such…success. It had her gut twisting even further in unease. If Wakanda—a noted third-world country—of all nations had been able to get  _Barnes_? The Winter Soldier himself? What happened when someone came forward to try and claim Nadine? She was much easier to just make disappear; she was far less well known.

It was why, even with her resolve to let things play out, she had given into the urge to ask after Nadine. And why she had already started considering and implementing plans…

And plans required knowledge. Hence why she had drawn Sharon aside even as Steve and Tony had argued within the Conference Room the blonde agent had been similarly eying.

"I don't suppose you know where they're keeping The Ghost?" Sharon had turned to Natasha at the question, pausing in her path, her expression closed and considering. Not far away, where he'd been waiting patiently by Natasha for Steve and Tony to wrap up, Sam's expression had grown sharp.

"Why?" Sharon had asked softly. Natasha met her assessing gaze with one of her own, measuring her former colleague.

"She's my sister," she'd finally said simply after a long, tense moment. Sharon's eyes had widened minutely, the only indication that Natasha had caught her off guard. Yet she hadn't relented, continuing to study Natasha intently. But she had finally sighed, and Nat knew she'd gotten through. At least a little bit.

"You know I can't, Natasha," she had said softly, "not even for a friend." And Natasha couldn't even say she had been surprised. Though, she was still disappointed.

"Worth a try," she had shrugged off. Sharon had spared a small, sympathetic smile. Until the smile had turned vaguely curious. Even a touch mischievous. She had nodded subtly then toward Steve.

"So, is there something there? Between him and Ryker?" Natasha had been shocked, to say the least, but she had kept it to herself. Mostly. Sam had snickered from his position nearby.

"Caught that, did you?" he murmured, glancing between Sharon and Natasha. His usual bright gaze had been faintly dimmed by the situation, but it was clear he had still been enjoying himself in that moment. Sharon's lip had quirked.

"Hard not to," she'd answered dryly. And Natasha hadn't been able to help a small, huffing chuckle of her own. "They have it bad, don't they." Natasha had nodded, her own lip quirking just as Sharon's had.

"And they refuse to act on it," Natasha had confirmed. Sharon had nodded, sympathy flashing across her face at the thread of exasperation Natasha had let show. Natasha had nearly laughed. Yeah, Sharon would understand. There had even been a time when she'd even asked Nat for some insight into the Captain to help in her own interest.

Not that anything had come of that, obviously.

And before she could help herself, the words had just started slipping out, her smaller frustration taking over in the face of a larger one. "You remember how… restrained Steve can be when it comes to pursuing a potential relationship, right? Well, Nadine's just as bad, if not worse, especially in this case. She's got herself so convinced that nothing should happen…well, the short story is that even my not inconsiderable…influence is getting anywhere. Her daughter's even in on it and she's still holding out." Sharon had rolled her eyes in commiseration while Sam had chuckled, earning himself a lightly chiding glance.

"So you met your matchmaking match, have you," the blonde agent had teased lightly. "Someone who hasn't fallen to your manipulations?" Natasha had scoffed.

"I play a long game, Carter," she'd countered confidently, though it had faded after a moment, "though the current situation complicates my plans a bit."

The conversation had been cut short, then, as Tony had chosen that moment to let himself out of the conference room. Each sparing Natasha a quick glance, Sharon had herded Sam on and in through the door Tony had passed through to join Steve in the conference room. Tony, meanwhile, had come to stand near Natasha even as, up on the screens, Barnes' evaluation had been getting started.

An evaluation that, while interesting, wasn't exactly the most informative either.

Only for the Command Centre to suddenly plunge into darkness, the screens winking out along with Natasha's distracted musings as the power was abruptly cut off. The flash of the red emergency lights was ominous.

Or maybe that was just her.

At once Natasha was on full alert, every sense, every instinct sharpening even as her body was suddenly humming in anticipation. Even as Agent Ross began snapping out orders and Tony started muttering to his U.I., Natasha's gut told her everything she needed to know.

Something was going down.

And it was going to be bad.

And obviously she wasn't the only one to think so. Looking up from the station she had leaned in to peer at as chaos threatened to grip the Command Centre, she only just caught a flash of movement by the stairwell that had her spinning to the conference room.

Steve and Sam were gone. Her gut clenched. They thought it was something to do with Barnes…of course it was. Internally she berated herself.

What else could it be?

Well, she wasn't about to sit back. If something was going down, she needed to act.

Especially when voices began to confirm over the radios throughout the room that Barnes was on a rampage.

Her blood ran cold even as Agent Ross began crisply snapping out yet more orders. That only meant one thing.

It wasn't Barnes on the loose.

It was the Winter Soldier.

Without hesitation, she was snatching at Tony's elbow and steering him toward the stairwell. It was a hint he took quickly enough, his mouth set in a grim line and his determination clear as he quickly fell into step next to her.

"Please tell me you brought a suit," she muttered, her unease threatening to get the better of her even as her training began to kick in, her mind clearing and the carefully honed operative within her waking up, adrenaline and purpose suddenly surging through her veins.

"Sure did," Tony quipped irritably back, "it's a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button. I'm an active-duty non-combatant." She grit her teeth against his snappish tone. Yeah, she got that he was unsettled. Now was not the time for that.

They needed to— Her thought was abruptly cut off as Sharon rushed past them, glancing to Natasha for as long as it took to pass along a single instruction: "She's on the third floor, sub-level B."

Natasha didn't even hesitate.

Even as Sharon turned to Tony with a brisk, 'follow me,' Natasha was already on the move.

She needed to find her sister.


	104. Chapter 29

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

Nadine had grown complacent during her time with the Avengers. And look where it had gotten her.

She'd been caught.

Since she'd been led through the halls of the JCTC after her arrest, she'd been mentally berating herself for letting this happen. Yet…she couldn't even entirely say she regretted it…which was a baffling thought all on its own. Sure, she was regretting just how badly Steve was blaming himself for her arrest—it had been so plainly visible on his face in the van and again when Agent Ross had ordered her taken into custody, she had actually ached. It had been her own decision to come along, not his, and she couldn't regret it. Not when they'd finally had a real chance to get to Barnes.

No, what she regretted was that they had failed at all.

And that she'd allowed herself to get caught. Even with how things had fallen out in the field, she should've been able to slip away somehow or even fight free.

Yet she hadn't.

And she knew precisely why.

She'd been too unsettled to think straight. As if it hadn't been bad enough how poorly she had been controlling and compartmentalizing her emotions before they'd even left Vienna—she refused to let herself fall back into thinking about her inability to properly restrain herself around Steve…she couldn't afford to let herself think about any of what was or wasn't going on between them right now—seeing Barnes again? To be so damn close! She'd hesitated. God, even now, she couldn't get the mental image of him pinned to the pavement, twisting to meet her eye—his eyes widening in bewildered shock at the sight of her…and awareness…the  _awareness_  in them—or of just how resigned and hopeless he'd seemed restrained in that ridiculous containment pod of the JCTC's, obviously striving and failing to keep from looking to Steve…and her…

She'd been working toward that moment for  _years_ …and yet…she had hesitated.

Hell, just now? Part of her felt like she deserved to be where she was, and it was hindering her instincts for self-preservation.

But yet, another part still believed it was more practical for her to be here at the JCTC, arrested or not. That this turn of events might be a blessing in disguise and an opportunity she could take advantage of. That was the instinct she tried to focus on.

Either way, she was in a tight spot, that was for sure. Because this was bad. As soon as the JCTTF properly processed her, word would begin to spread that The Ghost had been caught.

And then the world really would come down on her. Hard.

No, she'd meant what she'd said to Steve.

She needed to get herself out.

Then she could turn her attention to Barnes.

Dire as her situation was, though, Nadine couldn't help the lingering flash of amusement she'd felt as the JCTTF agents left her alone in the holding cell. Not only because they left her alone, but because it didn't take a whole lot of discreet study to determine that, for all that the JCTTF was meant to be prepared for any type of threat, the cell—despite a particularly impressive glass and steel reinforced door—was not originally intended to contain Enhanced persons…or even highly trained assassins. So either the JCTC didn't have any specialized cells left for Enhanced detainees, which Nadine doubted given the showy unit they'd stuck Barnes in, or far more likely, they didn't realize she was more than just a highly trained assassin.

Either that or they didn't quite have the concept of just what it took to effectively contain someone like her.

It meant her next task would be all the easier…regardless of them ensuring she was once more dressed in civilian clothes. As if she wouldn't still be prepared…

She wasn't an almost-graduate of the Red Room and one of the best assassins in the world for nothing.

So as she sat facing the door to the cell she strategized, cataloguing options and picking through her memory to decide on the best way to proceed once she got out of the holding cell. No point in hurrying, after all. If anything, the longer she waited, the more prepared she would be; the longer she was locked up here, the better an idea she'd have of how many agents were assigned to this section—rotations of three agents—and how often an agent on duty made rounds—every twenty minutes. Even the trip down to the holding area had furnished her with a decently comprehensive picture of the security that stood between her and freedom.

The only real cause for concern that she could see were the cameras, both inside her cell and, to a lesser extent, throughout the building. Giving the JCTTF agents a heads up would certainly complicate things, after all. She had a small EMP device in the liner of her right boot, but using it would undoubtedly tip off her captors just as effectively as them seeing what she was doing. She needed to play this carefully. The device would take care of her cell and possibly the cameras in the hall outside along with any electronics in the door's locks—she was pretty sure from the barely audible hum that had sounded as the door closed there was some sort of circuit built into the doorframe prevent tampering—but that would be it; it didn't have a particularly large range, after all.

And then there would be the task of slipping away; no mean feat in a facility such as this one—

Her planning was abruptly cut short as she was plunged into darkness.

It was a testament to Nadine's strict training that she didn't outwardly react as the power died, the light from the narrow window high on the wall above her head the only illumination left. But internally, she nearly jerked, her breath catching in surprise…then anticipation.

It was the perfect opportunity.

A brief consideration that it was a set-up—a convenient one for sure—flashed through her mind, but she quickly discarded the notion, though she didn't push it from her mind completely. Because despite the stroke of luck that the opportunity had been so conveniently served up before her, she couldn't fight the sudden, insistent feeling that something was very wrong.

But even if it was a trap, she would deal with it. She simply had no other choice. She had to take advantage of whatever opportunity she was presented with.

Besides, considering the shouts and sounds of rushing bodies building out in the corridor beyond her line of sight, she very much suspected it was anything but an expected outage.

Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with her.

Which meant no one would notice for a while if she were to slip away.

Perfect.

In a heartbeat she was on her feet and moving. She only had so much time before someone was bound to appear to make sure she was secure.

A well-placed kick had a hole punched through the wall next to the doorframe. She smirked as her suspicion that there was no reinforcement directly surrounding the door was proven correct as was her guess that there was a charge circuit that would've easily incapacitated her had she tried it when the power was on. By touch alone and some careful fiddling, she was quickly able to pop the lock open. The fact that the power-outage had also disabled the electronic lock certainly didn't hurt; most of the work had already been done for her. She didn't even have to retrieve any of the tools left to her that the JCTTF agents hadn't even considered to check for.

And then she was slipping out the door and down the hall.

Only to all but collide with Natasha as her sister rounded the corner. If either's sudden appearance startled the other, neither let it show. A trace of a smirk appeared on Natasha's face.

"Aww, you stole my thunder," she grinned mischievously.

"And there I thought thunder was Thor's thing," Nadine quipped back dryly. Nat smirked for real before she gestured Nadine back the way she'd just come, her expression sobering as she broke out into a brisk jog. Sensing the tension and worry in her little sister, Nadine didn't hesitate to follow.

"What's going on  _lisichka_?" Natasha glanced to Nadine, her lips thinned with stress.

"The Winter Soldier is on the loose," she replied quietly. Nadine paled; the distinction wasn't lost on her. Someone had activated Barnes' programming. Nadine swore softly, though the Russian curses didn't make her feel any better. It wasn't hard to figure out what Natasha had in mind.

"You think we can take him? Last time we only managed because we had the element of surprise during a one-on-one sparring match…and a third…and because his orders kept him checked and non-lethal." Natasha shot her a grim but still faintly amused look.

"Well, we were only girls back then. I don't know about you, but I'm a lot better than I was as a teenager." She sobered again as they reached the stairwell, "but the only ones who have a chance against him are Steve and us if we work together…and no one's seen Steve since he raced down to head off Barnes the instant he realized something was wrong." Nadine's chest clenched, fear bubbling up her throat. But she forcefully pushed it away. There was no time for that now.

It seemed she and Natasha had a job to do.

It felt like their race through the building took forever. All around them people were streaming toward exits and evacuation points, security herding personnel at every turn. And not one of them spared Nadine and Natasha's dash past with more than a wondering glance.

A few even with a flash of hopeful recognition as they recognized Black Widow.

Nadine heard the fighting before she saw it. Following the updates Stark or even his U.I. was likely saying into Natasha's earpiece, her sister led them quickly down to the facility's cafeteria area.

Where Barnes had already been engaged.

They turned the corner just in time to see Barnes engaging with Stark, snapping Tony's head back with a sharp jab of his elbow before launching a powerful hit into the centre of the billionaire's chest. With a crash and clatter of seating and abandoned tableware, Tony was thrown bodily back into the scattered bistro tables.

And it was like a switch had been thrown in Nadine's head. It was like those days all those years ago. There was no time to think, just to perceive and to react. No time for her breath to catch in anger and fear that it felt just like it had back then, as though she'd been thrown back in time nearly twenty years.

Just to fight.

There was no room for anything else.

Anything else would get someone killed.

Without even a glance to her sister, already knowing Natasha was right there with her, Nadine launched herself forward, taking full advantage of her Enhanced speed to charge ahead of Nat as she raced across the wide open space of the cafeteria. She barely paid attention to the downed JCTTF agents, remaining civilians or a dazed Sharon Carter save to note their positions in the back of her mind.

All she was focused on now was the fight.

On taking Barnes down.

Her first lashing kick slammed into Barnes' hastily raised arm followed by another set of hard, spinning kicks that he only barely managed to turn aside. A faint flood of satisfaction bloomed as he backpedalled in the face of her assault. But it was short lived. She couldn't afford overconfidence.

With a snarl, he swung out his metal arm, but Nadine was already moving, ducking beneath the intended blow to swing herself onto his back. Her moves came as instinct, and without wasting a moment to think, Nadine was latching her arm tight around his neck, yanking hard to pull his head back and unsteady him just in time for her sister to throw herself into the fight.

And Natasha didn't disappoint, her knee driving into Barnes' chest hard enough that Nadine felt more than heard the air gusting out of his lungs, nearly positive she heard a faint creak of his ribs protesting beneath the blow.

He staggered beneath her, grunting in pain as Natasha immediately landed a hard blow to this upper thigh that had the powerful muscles there immediately spasming in shock. His whole body shuddered, his leg very nearly giving way beneath the combined force of Natasha's punch and Nadine's weight hanging from her arm tight around his neck.

Feeling his body going momentarily lax, Nadine pressed their advantage while he was still stunned from Natasha's hit, hooking her leg around his metal arm. "C'mon, Barnes," she muttered as she solidified her hold around his neck, "you can break out of this. You did it for me once, and I know you've done it for Steve. I know you know me!" With a final wrench, she managed to pin the limb to his side with a grimace of effort.

And she managed it only just in time. Natasha was not so lucky. For all that Nadine's tight hold was hindering his movements, Barnes was still able to lash out a hard kick of his own, recovering far quicker than they had both hoped. A split-second before his blow connected with her chest Natasha's eyes widened, already moving. But it wasn't quite enough and she was thrown back, hard, into the closest dark-wooded table, the legs snapping from the force with a resounding crack.

Nadine couldn't react to her sister's fall. She didn't have a chance. The force of his kick had Barnes' body twisting beneath hers, and her grip slipped.

She could only react to the fight. And react she did. Her focus snapping back instantly to the man they were struggling to subdue, she propelled herself up onto his back once more the instant her feet touched the ground, using her momentum to swing herself around his torso to snap her knee sharply against his jaw, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders, looking for purchase.

But he was too quick and too hard to hold onto as her grip currently was; her fingers were slipping on the smooth metal hidden beneath his shirt. But that was a fortunate development.

Right then, his left hand was snaking back toward her, the metal limb flashing in the bright light of the cafeteria as he snatched at her. Reacting instinctively, Nadine let herself fall from her position on his back, the gleaming fingers only barely missing her. So close, she could swear she felt the cool metal graze the skin of her throat.

It was only by sheer virtue of her training that panic didn't flare through her at the near miss. Nothing did, just resolve. The instant her feet hit the ground, she was shifting away and darting back up onto his back, snaking her arm once more around his neck, silently thankful for the advantage of her Enhanced speed and her sparring sessions with Steve keeping her skills honed and her reactions sharp.

If she could just get that damned metal arm taken care of and his head immobilized, they had a chance. Already, Natasha was pulling herself back up, shaking off Barnes' hit as her sharp gaze took in Nadine's status, already coiling in preparation to strike.

Gritting her teeth, Nadine let herself swing around, her leg lashing out to once again hook her knee around his arm even as she wrenched his head back, unbalancing him. Struggling to loosen her grip, he twisted…

…and those vivid, blank steel-blue eyes met hers…and Nadine faltered, feeling like she'd just been punched in the gut with the force of a Quinjet.

She  _knew_  her daughter had his eyes, but  _seeing_  them again in his face after so many years…

…to see them so empty and brutally emotionless…

In the space of a heartbeat, it all came rushing back, every uncertain, horrible, surreal moment from all those years before. And in that terrible, reeling moment as she faltered, he was using her momentum against her.

In that split-second, the world seemed to stand still, and she knew she'd miscalculated.

His arm curled around her hooked knee and he heaved her forward.

Hard.

Before she could so much as draw breath, she was hurtling over his head.

The last thing she heard was a strangled cry as glass shattered with a riotous crash around her, pain radiating through her body with the impact.

And then nothing.

Almost as soon as she was aware again, a groan rippled up out of Nadine's chest.

Everything ached, her head throbbing, but it didn't feel like any serious damage had been done. Her skin stung, a couple small places even feeling warm in a way that suggested she was bleeding at least a little. Her thoughts feeling fuzzy and dazed, a second, inadvertent groan slipped out as she rolled to her right side, struggling to piece together what had happened. How long had she been out? Minutes? Hours?

Shards of glass tinkled, jostled loose from her hair and clothes as she shifted, groggy even as everything flooded back. And she groaned again. She'd made a critical mistake, and she'd certainly paid for it…

By getting thrown through the plate glass divider between the JCTC's cafeteria and its seating area…

She jerked sharply then as a hand brushed across her aching left shoulder, twisting, hand instinctively flying up and ready to defend herself it the touch wasn't friendly.

Blonde hair and a pale, drawn face was peering down at her. Nadine blinked, momentarily bewildered. And with a sensation that felt like an elastic band snapping into place, her mind kicked back into gear, her familiar impassive mask falling back into place as she processed her situation properly.

Since she was still lying where she'd fallen when Barnes had thrown her off, she obviously hadn't been taken back into custody. In fact, as she spared a quick glance around her, Sharon Carter was the only JCTTF agent she saw; Tony was sitting heavily in a chair across the room near where he'd been thrown, still visibly recovering from the hit; Sam was standing close to Nat, his friendly features tense and deeply concerned as he helped her sister up, the pair of them glancing toward a young woman with a cloud of dark curls framing her frightened and bewildered features.

No one else. The cafeteria was virtually abandoned.

The only other person she immediately saw was Sharon. She was currently kneeling next to Nadine, a determined glint in her eyes.

It could only have been a few minutes.

And Barnes was gone.

She swore under her breath, the variety of Russian and German curses coming out stilted and breathless from her aching chest.

"You okay to move?" Nadine's attention snapped fully back to Sharon at the hastily murmured question. It was enough to give her pause. It was then that she noticed the younger agent was flicking quick, assessing glances of her own at their surroundings.

"What are you doing," Nadine asked softly even as she nodded in answer, not quite succeeding in keeping her discomfort from her tone as she forced herself to sit up.

"Getting you moving so I don't have to arrest you again," Sharon hissed as her hand closed securely around Nadine's forearm, Nadine automatically grabbing hers in kind, and helping pull her to her feet. Grateful for the help though she was, Nadine wasn't about to let it show, her instincts to hide even the barest traces of weakness too deeply embedded to just brush aside. The instant she was on her feet, she leaned away from Sharon, tugging her arm free. She narrowed her eyes at the younger woman, her mind mercifully once more up to speed even if her body was still catching up. Thankfully, though, even as she eyed Sharon, she could feel her equilibrium returning. Getting thrown through a window like this one was no small thing, but it took a lot more than that to keep a Red Room recruit down for long.

"Why?" she murmured, hesitating for only a heartbeat as Sharon gestured subtly for her to get moving, a hand grazing Nadine's arm. She'd obviously taken the hint that Nadine wasn't keen on being touched.

"Well, Barnes made his escape; I imagine yours wouldn't have been too far behind." Nadine couldn't help but raise a brow at Sharon's dry observation.

"He didn't exactly plan his, though," she countered even as Sharon held open the stairwell door she'd briskly led them to. Sharon shrugged.

"Fair enough," she said, indicating for Nadine to start climbing even as she spared a glance back out toward the cafeteria. "We both know I'm right, though." An exasperated look crossed her face as she looked back to see Nadine shooting her a skeptical look. Well, what did she expect? Nadine knew enough of the building to know that the way out was to head down. But Sharon held firm and gestured silently to head up. After a moment's study, Nadine chose to go along with it. A small smile tugged at the corner of Sharon's lip as she continued, "and you're no good to anyone locked up in here."

Nadine couldn't help a small, smug grin from tugging at her lips.

Well, she was certainly not wrong.

And pausing to let Sharon past to lead the way, Nadine easily fell into a light jog behind the JCTTF agent.


	105. Chapter 30

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

It was not immediately apparent where Sharon was leading her as they slipped deeper into the building, but the further into the JCTC they went, the stronger Nadine's suspicion became.

Much to their benefit, the power outage combined with Barnes' escape had effectively cleared the building so they could move unhindered, unchallenged and, most importantly, unnoticed. The building felt effectively deserted, the radio on Sharon's hip chattering softly with the urgency that followed clearing the building in the aftermath of a high-adrenaline attack instead of in panic over missing prisoners.

And Nadine was more than okay with that.

She was especially okay when, after some quick work on her part knocking out the pair of agents left to secure their destination and a rather skillful bit of advanced lock-picking on her unexpected companion's part, they ducked into the room Sharon had been leading them to.

The JCTC's primary lock-up.

"Okay," Sharon said, her voice low as she snatched up the sign-in log, glancing at it for a moment before handing it to Nadine, "the techs are saying surveillance won't be back up for another twenty minutes or so, but that's just an estimate—it's already back up on the other side of the building, so we don't have a lot of time. We're looking for collections 'Cap Costume', 'Grey Gear', 'Winter Gear' and 'Bird Costume'." Nadine nearly choked, looking to Sharon with a carefully neutral expression marred only by the wicked glint in her eye.

"Bird costume? I bet Sam was pleased about that," she said wryly. Sharon grinned back, her own eyes nearly twinkling with her amusement right before she ducked down the nearest row.

"Loved it," she confirmed. Nadine just smiled, setting down the clipboard to begin searching for the shelves and their contents that the clipboard had indicated.

At first their search passed in silence, but it wasn't long before the inevitable questions came.

"So you and Natasha are sisters," Sharon's curious voice piped up from the next row over. Nadine fought against the urge to grit her teeth. Though expected, she wasn't entirely keen on small talk. She wanted to get in, get out and rendezvous with Steve, Sam and—hopefully—Barnes. So she was very interested in wrapping up here and dropping off the radar as quickly as possible.

She had unfinished business to see to, and she had no intention of getting caught again.

She let out an assenting sound, but instead of waiting to see where Sharon hoped to take the conversation, she countered with a question of her own.

"She's the one who put you up to helping me, isn't she?" She was nearly tempted to smile when Sharon let out her own assenting hum, clearly seeing through what Nadine had been attempting to do. She was no slouch, Agent Carter.

"Not exactly. Though, she did ask where to find you. Before Barnes got loose, all I could give her was a hard no. But once he was? I figured there was nothing left to lose. Knowing what Natasha's capable of and knowing you two have the same training ? I figured having two of her, so to speak, could only help." Funny, it wasn't far off Natasha's thinking when they'd met up in the hall outside Nadine's cell. A small huff of a laugh caught in Nadine's throat.

"In theory, you weren't wrong," Nadine responded dryly. "We'd gone up against him together once before, back when Nat and I were still in training. The pair of us even managed to take him down." Nadine nearly scowled then, still irritated with herself that they hadn't been able to manage as much this time.

That she'd allowed herself to get so dangerously distracted. She was better than that! They should've been able to take him down. Easily. They both had nearly two decades of additional experience apiece as compared to that day…

And yet, actually going up against him again? It had been as though she was back in the Red Room, making stupid, amateur mistakes that would've gotten her killed in those days. That easily could've gotten her killed today. Foolish, emotion-driven mistakes that her training had prepared her to avoid.

God, that dead look in his eyes as they'd fought, though…as though no time had passed…and contrasting as sharply as a knife blade to how  _alive_  and  _aware_  he'd looked even pinned to the pavement in Bucharest…

How could she have been so irresponsible…so stupid…she should have been able to completely shut down her emotions. And because she hadn't? Even couldn't?

She had risked everything all because she had allowed herself to lose focus.

"Bit of a fluke, apparently," she added bitterly. Sharon didn't seem moved. Not the way Nadine was.

"Well, successful or not, you two going up against him was pretty impressive. I have to say, there were a couple moments there when I thought you two might have had him." Nadine exhaled slowly, biting back a retort that 'almost' didn't count for much. She was saved from the impulse when she spied one of the shelves she was looking for, lifting off the carton neatly labelled 'Winter Gear'.

Retreating back to the set of tables near the door, she deposited the relatively light box, not bothering to check inside. As she turned, intending to resume the search for the other three, Sharon emerged from the row she'd been down with another similarly small carton. Nadine suspected immediately it was her gear; Sam and Steve's gear each undoubtedly required storage in containers a little larger than the one Sharon currently held.

Sure enough, the instant she spotted that Nadine wasn't down one of the aisles, Sharon briefly lifted the container as she said, "found yours," before nodding back the way she'd come. "And I found Steve and Wilson's. They're in secure lock-up." Nadine couldn't help the indignant huff that escaped her at that.

"What, I'm not threatening enough for my gear to warrant secure lock-up?" Sharon actually laughed at the comment, and Nadine couldn't help but grin.

"I don't think my coworkers have quite realized that you're actually in the same league as any one of the Avengers, not just hanging out with a couple of them," Sharon said with obvious amusement, a veritable eyeroll implied in her tone. Though her pride did feel a little stung at the idea of being so easily dismissed, Nadine couldn't say she really minded overall. Being underestimated was almost always an advantage and not one she had ever passed up lightly. "Your guns, though, those are in secure. That's going to be a little harder to get into."

"Not a problem," Nadine dismissed as Sharon set the carton on the table next to the one holding Barnes' things. Putting her guns and Steve and Sam's gear in the secure lock-up was probably one of the few smart things the JCTTF folks had done today. Especially considering she had just the thing to get them into the secure lock-up tucked away on her uniform's belt. Grinning to herself at how foolish it had been of the JCTTF agents to put off properly cataloguing her effects in the excitement of Barnes' capture, she pulled the box toward her—

Only to huff out a laugh that had Sharon frowning in confusion.

Well, that explained it, actually…

"What," Sharon asked warily. Nadine, a sly smile still on her lips, gestured to the neat, familiar writing on the front of the container designating the contents 'Grey Gear.'

"I don't think it's quite so much luck or ineptitude as design that my gear isn't in lock-up," Nadine replied dryly as she traced a finger over handwriting that looked far too much like her own to be coincidence. Oh, her sister was a clever little fox… Sharon's frown deepened as she glanced to the label even as comprehension began to light in her eyes.

"Natasha was involved in intake," the younger agent confirmed sounding vaguely annoyed that she hadn't put that together herself. Nadine nodded. "To make sure Avenger Gear was properly handled, as she told my boss."

"Well, I certainly wasn't and she's the only one I know of who can duplicate my handwriting this well," Nadine said before shooting the younger woman a wry grin, "it also explains 'Bird Costume,' come to think of it…" Sharon snickered at the observation.

"I was wondering about that," Sharon mused mostly to herself as Nadine retrieved her lock kit. Nadine only barely restrained a snicker of her own. That was for sure. Natasha's ire could certainly be sharp when she was upset with the people she cared about. Probably also explained why Steve's stuff got 'costume' instead of 'gear' too.

A few moments and a satisfying demonstration of her skill later, Nadine let the two of them into the secure lock-up.

"She really was anticipating that you'd get yourself out, wasn't she," Sharon quipped as she watched Nadine work. As the door popped open with a faint rattle, Nadine shot her a challenging glance.

"Naturally. Now, 'Cap' and 'Bird' costumes, right? Something tells me they shouldn't be hard to find," she added dryly. Sure enough, Steve and Sam's gear both were all but front and centre, and her own weapons tucked off not far away, efficiently tagged and stowed in the easily bypassed—for her—locked gun cabinet.

"No phones," Nadine murmured partially to herself as she took stock of the containers' contents as Sharon wheeled over a third, empty container into the secure lock-up as Nadine pulled them down. She spared a glance at Sharon, noting the flicker of resignation on the younger woman's face.

"Collected when you were arrested," Sharon said, looking distinctly less-than-pleased, "They're with our techs, now. Wasn't much I could do about that." Nadine hummed, not entirely surprised even if her annoyance with herself at getting caught flared once more. She eyed the younger woman curiously as Sharon began loading Steve's gear into the empty container; it wasn't a bad idea. Leaving the containers apparently untouched to a cursory check would provide some effective misdirection, after all.

"You know, I certainly didn't expect you to get involved quite to this extent," she said quietly, measuring her words carefully as she surreptitiously studied the younger woman even as she quickly set to work on Sam's container, going along with Sharon's unspoken idea. "It's a big risk," she continued as Sharon closed up and replaced Steve's container on the proper shelf. "You will probably get caught and charged for this." Almost certainly, really. "At the very least, your career is likely over." Sharon raised a brow at Nadine as she replaced Sam's carton while Nadine efficiently packed away her rifle and added it to the container. Her gear and Barnes things would just barely fit, if Nadine was any judge.

"Not if they're looking at you for this," Sharon dismissed with a shrewd look and the shadow of a devious grin. Nadine blinked. Oh, that was a good… "You certainly have a bleak outlook on things," Sharon added lightly, wheeling the mostly full container back out of the secure lock-up. As soon as Nadine had followed her out, Sharon closed the access with a sharp slam, the lock clicking shut as though nothing was amiss.

Nadine spared her a dubious look. "I'm realistic."

"And a bit of a downer," Sharon quipped back with a grin as she wheeled the container up to the main table. One Nadine couldn't quite help but return even as she shrugged in response.

"I am what my circumstances demanded I be, what they made me. I'm not about to make excuses," she dismissed, pulling the container closest to her closer still and beginning to transfer Barnes' things to the new container. And it was true. Sure, she wasn't quite so fatalistically pragmatic as she had once been, but she was still cynical and realistic almost to a fault at times. She knew how the world worked. Her time with the Avengers had changed her a bit, allowing her to lighten up more than she'd ever permitted herself to in the past, but she hadn't changed that much, either.

Sharon made a dismissive sound, making short work of Nadine's carton; all her gear was neatly packed away in her travel duffel, after all. "Not asking you to," she said. "Just curious, really." Nadine glanced up to her again as she closed up the container full of gear and turned back to the empty bin that had held Barnes' things. Picking it up, she paused before turning to the row where it had been stored.

"So why are you really helping me?" she asked as she returned the container to its shelf, the scrape of it sliding back into place seeming particularly loud. There was more to the younger woman's motivation than just using Nadine as a decoy. Sharon shrugged as she paused at the end of Nadine's aisle, the movement hindered by the empty crate she carried.

"Because, unlike my boss, I can see that you, Steve and Wilson and even Barnes are our best chance at stopping whatever is really going on here," she said over her shoulder as she returned the empty crate bearing the label for Nadine's gear back to its place. "Unlike my boss, I can see that there's something else going on, a bigger picture, that none of us saw coming, that my superiors have no interest in seeing." And then the younger woman turned to Nadine, her brown eyes intent and earnest.

"And because it's the right thing to do," she finished with finality, as though it was the simplest answer in the world. And suddenly Nadine was struck with a sense of longing she'd never quite experienced before. She wondered what it felt like to feel such a choice was that simple. Her choices never felt simple, even when she was limited to a single choice.

"I've never been able to afford decisions based solely on 'right' or 'wrong,'" she said softly, tone careful and impassive. Sharon raised a skeptical brow as she held the door open for Nadine to wheel the container-laden dolly past the unconscious agents meant to be guarding the room and out into the hall, the faint curve of her lip making her appear almost amused.

"Like the decision to go along to help Barnes even knowing there was a good chance you'd get caught? That kind of decision?" Nadine didn't quite have a response to that. The corner of her lip quirked of its own accord. Yeah, that kind of decision…when put that way…perhaps she had made just such a choice. She easily could've stayed behind, after all, but it hadn't felt…right.

Not like choosing to go along to Bucharest.

That had been a surprisingly easy decision for all the conflict she'd felt over it at the time.

She followed Sharon in silence, the two of them barely exchanging more than two words as they bent to their purpose of getting out of the JCTC, gear in tow. The only sound that followed them was the odd stressed voices checking in through Sharon's radio as the JCTC slowly recovered after the day's excitement; any minute, now, someone would realize she, Steve and Sam were missing and the alarm would sound.

Did Steve feel this way all the time? So…conflicted over whether the right choice was actually…right? He always seemed so confident in his convictions.

But then her thoughts were drawn back to what she'd seen in him since news of the Accords broke. The brief, quickly hidden moments of conflict. He wasn't always quite so certain as he appeared. Not about the Accords, at least. In the sanctuary back in London she knew he'd been wavering. He'd admitted as much. He'd begun to wonder if refusing was really the right thing to do.

Of course Steve and his convictions weren't wholly immune to doubt and uncertainty, Nadine admonished silently…what a foolish thought to think they were. She knew him better than that. No one was that certain about their own actions on something so important. Not Stark or Natasha or Rhodes. Not even Steve.

Well, except when it came to Barnes. Where his oldest friend was concerned, Steve never hesitated. Not even when Barnes was trapped within his…his programming…

Nadine's breath hitched as a thought struck her, her steps faltering even as they approached the car Sharon had pulled the container up behind.

And as Sharon paused as she reached for the trunk latch, finally looking up to notice Nadine's hesitation, Nadine's mind was already kicking into gear.

"Ryker?" Nadine very nearly missed Sharon's concerned call, turning to look back the way they'd come, her thoughts whirling and circling back to one troubling realization. How had she missed it?! At once she was silently berating herself yet again. She was seriously losing her touch…

"Someone activated his programming…" Nadine murmured thoughtfully. Sharon frowned. Nadine looked up to the younger agent where she stood next to the black sedan, the trunk already popped and the container open, ready to be emptied. "Barnes' programming," she explained distractedly, "it wasn't active when we were all arrested. Someone had to activate it…" she could feel herself going cold even as understanding became to surface on Sharon's features. "Someone has to have activated it  _here_ …and what would've given them access and opportunity…" Sharon's features had grown sharp.

"The power outage," she said softly, anger threading her voice, "he was alone with the psychologist…and the doctor was still unaccounted for last I heard." But Nadine barely heard the response. Her thoughts were already zeroed in on what needed to be done next. She glanced to Sharon.

"I need to get down to where Barnes was being held. I need to see if there was anything left behind." She was not asking. But Sharon moved into her path, standing firm at Nadine's affronted expression.

"No, you're going to get out of here. This whole plan falls apart if you're not the one to drive this car out of here. I'll go down." Nadine's eyes narrowed, but the younger agent didn't flinch. She merely raised a brow. Nerves of steel, this one. "Or would you like to get caught again?" Nadine was severely tempted to scowl, instead raising a challenging brow of her own.

"I won't get caught," she assured the younger woman coolly. Sharon nodded, but still refused to budge.

"Maybe. But you definitely won't be if I'm the one to go. Especially not now that they know you're missing too." Nadine's jaw clenched irritably as Sharon tugged the radio from her belt, holding it up between them. Sure enough, the quiet chatter of checks and confirmations as teams worked to secure the building had given way to alarm and the odd mention of her name, Steve's and Sam's.

So they had finally realized that The three of them had all slipped away in the chaos, had they? Nadine's eyes narrowed, only barely restraining the urge to scowl yet again. Satisfied her point had been made, Sharon replaced the radio on her hip and tossed Barnes' pack into the trunk.

"Now, are you going to let me go?" Sharon prompted, "or are we going to continue debating this and risking being caught as they lock down the building?" Nadine was nothing if not pragmatic, and though she admittedly didn't like it—something might be missed if she wasn't the one to go—she was forced to admit Sharon Carter had a point. It wasn't the worst idea, ever. The younger woman had proven she was a skilled agent, after all.

And Steve trusted her. A trust Sharon Carter had so far risen to.

Nadine jerked out a small, assenting nod. To her credit, Sharon didn't smirk or outwardly betray any satisfaction that Nadine had backed down. She just grabbed Steve's bundled uniform and tossed it into the trunk too.

A few moments later and they parted ways, Sharon slipping back into the building with the empty container, heading for lock-up once more to do her best to run some interference and buy Nadine some time before slipping down to where Barnes had been held.

Nadine, on the other hand, the burner Sharon had pressed into her hand safely tucked into her jacket pocket, would take the car and meet Sharon in a couple hours at a business complex a few blocks away.

A potentially complicated and certainly risky plan, but it was nothing Nadine couldn't handle. Sure enough, she was pulling up to the parking garage's exit when two armed agents stopped her.

Not once did she break her cool.

No sooner was she stepping out of the car at the first agent's request than her elbow was slamming up into his jaw as she spun, catching the second with a precisely thrown mini-taser disc she'd appropriated from her sister's arsenal; they really were handy little things… One final, hard shove into the wall later and both agents were unconscious, neither one of them having had even the opportunity to go for their comms.

A few zipties and a little bit of work saw the two of them secured in the backseat and Nadine was off. She just needed to find a nice, relatively secluded alley—somewhere they wouldn't be discovered right away—to leave her unwilling passengers.

And then it was just a matter disappearing until it was time to rendezvous with Sharon.

Allowing herself a small, pleased grin, Nadine pulled the car out onto the street, merging seamlessly into the bustling traffic of the city.

Almost too easy, really.

Which meant all that was left to do now was wait.


	106. Chapter 31

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

Natasha could feel a headache coming on. A bad one. Yes, she'd been hoping Nadine would make it out, but everything else that had happened?

That she had certainly not been hoping for.

Things were going from bad to worse.

Not to mention she was rather starting to wish that Steve had taken Nadine up on her offer to get rid of Secretary Ross…

She'd never been a fan of the man. Not knowing what she did about him. Not knowing how dogged he could be, or unscrupulous. His past with Bruce alone made those traits perfectly clear. Nadine had been completely right when she'd said he was one of the worst options to bring the Accords to the Avengers. Truthfully? She was rather certain that Ross was a big part of the reason Steve was so staunchly against them.

Especially once it had been announced that Ross had been nominated and appointed to the UN Committee set to work with the Avengers for the next term.

That had been troubling. But it was reality, and there was nothing to do but deal with it. And that's what she and Tony had been doing. They had negotiated for Rhodey to be on standby in case Steve, Sam and Nadine had shown up in pursuit of Barnes to keep things from escalating. Good thing too, as it turned out. Tony had even laid the groundwork for Sam and Steve to be forgiven for what had happened in Bucharest.

But now that Steve and Sam had slipped away? Now that they were in the wind with Nadine and Barnes?

Now that everyone knew who Nadine was?

Bad to worse was an understatement. What little credibility the Avengers had left was quickly eroding away and Steve acting the loose cannon and acting against the Accords was not helping in the slightest. It was bad enough that Nadine's past had come to light and that the UN Committee was dangerously close to reprimanding the Team for turning a blind eye to the fact that she was on just about every wanted list imaginable and letting her stick around without turning her in. But Steve's open rebellion was making it all a hundred times worse. It was turning the Committee quickly over to Ross' point of view that The Avengers were  _too_  independent; as it stood, he was now the shoe in to be chosen as the chair of the Committee. Natasha squashed the uneasy feeling deep in her chest that was growing stronger and stronger with each new twist in the road they were coming up to.

They needed to contain this. They needed to get Steve and Sam to come in. They needed to fix this.

Or the Avengers risked being disbanded.

That much was clear in Ross' very body language.

"I don't suppose you have any idea where they are?" the former General said slowly as he circled the conference room table, the thread of accusation in his voice only barely perceptible, but there. Natasha fought against the way it set her teeth on edge. It was like he was stalking Tony, sniffing for weakness. She needed to play nice, she reminded herself forcefully, or they risked getting shut out too.

"We will," Tony said with calm confidence, without a trace of his usual flippancy or dramatics. He looked it too, despite the fact that he was a mess; his shirt collar opened and stained with drops of blood, bruises blooming dark and nasty around his right eye while blood crusted along his hairline. Yet he still managed to look composed. Barely. Natasha could see through the façade, through to just how shaken and impatient he was. Mercifully, Ross didn't seem to see it. Not so far as she could tell, at least. "GSG-9's got the borders covered," he continued, "Recon's flying 24/7. They'll get a hit. We'll handle it." But no sooner was Tony finishing his piece than Ross was speaking.

"You don't get it, Stark," Ross objected dispassionately. "It's not yours to handle. It's clear you can't be objective." And Natasha's stomach twisted, threatening to sink as her gaze snapped from her absent observation of the techs working outside the conference room to Ross. She kept a firm hold of herself, though, halting the dismay and unease that threatened to furrow her brow. She would keep her head. She needed to keep her head and not let her emotions run the show. Too much depended on staying rational through this. "I'm putting Special Ops on this," Ross finished with an air of authority. And Natasha couldn't keep her mouth shut. That suddenly sounded like the worst idea imaginable. He had seen what had happened in Bucharest, right? It was a miracle no one had been killed.

"What happens when the shooting starts?" she asked, unable to quite keep the bite out of her voice. "What, do you kill Steve Rogers?" Ross fixed her with a harsh look. But Natasha wasn't cowed. She'd been capable of withstanding far more threatening looks before she'd even hit puberty…

"If we're provoked." Ross countered irritably, nearly glaring at Tony as her friend tenderly settled into one of the conference room's mesh-backed chairs. "Barnes would've been eliminated in Romania if it wasn't for Rogers. There are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math." Natasha's temper sparked, especially at the blunt admission that the plan had never been to take Barnes alive. Oh, she was very tempted to check his math…

If it hadn't been for Rhodey stepping in, Steve, Sam, Barnes and Nadine would've torn through the GSG-9s as though they were no more than paper.

And really, they had been doing just that. Natasha had read the preliminary incident reports as they'd come in. There was no doubt that the GSG-9s sent in in Bucharest had been out of their league with Barnes alone, much less against all four of them. It was only T'Challa's interference that had held them up long enough to be cornered and brought in. If the Wakandan Prince hadn't been involved?

Natasha had no doubt the four of them would've long disappeared by now. And if they had?

There was a good chance the fiasco barely a couple hours previous wouldn't have happened at all…

Now wasn't that a seditious thought…

One she kept to herself, though she was only barely able to restrain the urge. Right as the thought might be, it wouldn't actually help anyone to say it aloud.

Mercifully, Tony spoke up, cutting Ross off himself before her thoughts had a chance to make a break past her tight control, giving her a chance to wrestle them back into submission.

"All due respect, you're not going to solve this with boys in bullets, Ross," Tony countered, fixing Ross with a hard look of his own. "You gotta let us bring them in." Natasha had to force in another calming breath at the way Ross only barely restrained fixing Tony with an all out scathing glare.

"How would that end any differently from the last time?" the Secretary challenged, his voice laced with clear contempt as he stepped forward to loom over Tony. Straightening, Tony's eyes flashed, his temper coming perilously close to breaking free. If the situation weren't so serious, Natasha might very well have been tempted to smile. Tony really had grown up. It had never been clearer than in this moment.

"Because this time, I won't be wearing loafers and a silk shirt," Tony declared tightly, meeting Ross' gaze head-on. "72 hours, guaranteed." Ross' eyes narrowed in thought. Natasha could practically see his mind working without even needing to see his face, balancing risk and reward and how likely he thought Tony was to get results.

She didn't like the way he was standing over Tony as he did.

"36 hours," he conceded. Natasha frowned. She very much didn't like how…accepting Ross nearly seemed. Frankly, she'd anticipated more pushback from him. But the feeling faded as he continued, a chill skittering across her skin. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her focus on controlling her breathing, suddenly fighting to keep her flash of unease and panic carefully hidden away. "Barnes," Ross listed contemptuously, beginning to pace toward the door, punctuating each step with a name, "Ryker. Rogers. Wilson." Natasha fought back the urge to react. Especially since she could feel Tony looking to her at the way Ross nearly spat out her sister's name.

"Thank you, sir," Tony called after the former General even as the door swung shut behind him, the words quick and absent, as though they were an afterthought. And considering his suddenly shuttered features as she looked up to him? Natasha couldn't say she'd be surprised if they were. The billionaire let out a shaking breath then, his posture slumping as he leaned forward, a riot of emotions flashing in his eyes as he rubbed at his breastbone. She was suddenly and unaccountably reminded of a drowning man as she watched him process what had just happened, what Ross had just agreed to.

What he now had to do.

After a moment he all but jerked, his dark eyes snapping up to Natasha. "My left arm is numb, is that normal?"

Natasha nearly smiled at the glimpse of the pre-Accords Tony breaking through with the seemingly random statement. Though harder to read than he usually was in this moment, there was still no mistaking the flash of unease and trepidation—even fear—she saw flickering across her friend's face even as he blurted out one of his characteristic non-sequiturs, his instinct to deflect via theatricality when he was feeling vulnerable returning in full force now that they were free from Ross' presence. Standing, she crossed around the table to his side, looking out over the command centre as she laid a gentle pat on his shoulder, letting her hand linger in a small, silent gesture of commiseration with what they both knew he'd left unsaid.

He didn't want this. Any of this.

And he certainly didn't want to have to go after Steve.

"You alright?" she asked softly, giving into the urge to ask now that she finally had the opportunity—or rather, the privacy—to do so. It was an open question, one he could answer however he deemed best; physically, emotionally or otherwise. She knew he was hurting in more ways than one. It was written clearly in every line of his body and across his face no matter how adept he was at hiding it all away; he'd always been far better at hiding what he felt than most people gave him credit for. She felt him tense minutely beneath her palm before slumping further. She swallowed back a sigh, looking down at him, carefully considering even the smallest, most unconscious cues he gave.

He was tired. And she couldn't blame him. Their life, their chosen role as Avengers even without being complicated further as it by the added demands of The Accords, was wearing on him, weighing heavier on his shoulders with each passing day.

For a split-second, she nearly thought candour might win out as he hesitated to answer. But then he seemed to shake free the melancholy that had settled around them both without their notice. Natasha withdrew her hand as she noted the shift in him.

"Always," he answered almost flippantly, the careless ease she was used to seeing in him emerging even if it was slightly dimmed. The corner of her lip nearly quirked as she straightened too, absently flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she looked back out over the JCTC's command centre as her thoughts circled back to the task looming before them. Dread threatened to pool in her gut as she considered what Tony had committed them to. Evidently, Tony's had done the same. "36 hours," he murmured mostly to himself, "jeez…" She nearly faltered as the gravity of their task settled around her, her mind already kicking into gear as she considered their objective and their options for ways to achieve it. Their biggest obstacle after the fact that they were being forced to go up against their friends—their family—was glaring and immediate to the redhead.

"We're seriously understaffed," she pointed out dryly, looking down to Tony. It needed to be said, even if she knew he was just as well aware of the fact as she was. It was written all over his face and the way he barely restrained a grimace.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed instantly, hiding the reluctant expression with an—almost—roguish smirk as he leaned back to meet her eye. "It'd be great if we had a Hulk right about now." Natasha nearly chuckled at the half-hearted teasing, her lips curling into a fondly exasperated grin before she could help herself. "Any shot?" She shook her head even as another idea was beginning to form, looking back to him from the now abandoned office she'd found herself looking at as she'd thought.

"No. You really think he'd be on our side?" she asked right back, only half joking. It was so slight she nearly missed it, but his expression dimmed just enough that it was clear he knew precisely what she meant as his eyes slid away from hers.

"No," he admitted under his breath sobering just as Natasha was. She inhaled, preparing to lay her musings on the table. "I have an idea." Still looking sightlessly across the conference room as she had been, Natasha recognized the stirrings of an idea of his own building behind Tony's eyes.

"Me too," he confirmed before looking up to her, a faint but surprisingly welcome mischievous glint beginning to surface in his eyes for all that it left her tempted to frown. "Where's yours?"

"Downstairs," she offered slowly, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Where's yours?" The roguish smirk was suddenly back in full force. Natasha nearly groaned in exasperation. She knew that look, and she was more than familiar with the feeling it inspired suggesting she was likely not going to entirely approve of what he'd come up with.

Her eyes narrowed as she ran through who he could possibly be considering: Rhodes, obviously; Vision, likely.

Her eyes narrowed on him then at the next two names that automatically sprang to mind.

"You're not thinking about the Maximoffs, are you?" The look Tony shot her was nearly plaintive even as it was condescending. Ah…that explained a few things about just how stressed he'd been even before Steve, Sam and Nadine had been brought in.

"Considering how Ross was making noises that Wanda would be better off in the Raft if she won't sign instead of agreeing to let her and Pietro stay confined to the Compound," Tony quipped back tightly, his tone almost caustic. "Something tells me that's not likely to be signed off on. I think our Powered Probies would both prefer to stay out of jail."

Natasha actually felt the blood leave her face. The Raft had been rumour for a long time; a specter of bogeyman proportions to the Enhanced of the world, really. To hear its existence so casually confirmed? To hear that Ross was already angling to detain Enhanced who declined to sign the Accords? To effectively arrest  _Wanda_? It was a shock, one that left dread pooling sickeningly in the pit of her stomach. And she was suddenly far less annoyed with Tony over what she'd initially assumed was a borderline arbitrary decision to confine Wanda and Pietro to the Compound.

But she pushed thought of the Raft and the reasons behind Tony's call about the Twins aside. All that would have to wait until later. Steve, Nadine, Sam and Barnes were the priority right now. They could deal with Ross and the rest once they got their current crisis under control.

So, if the Twins were out…who was left? The scheming look had returned, if somewhat diminished by the reminder she'd provided about how precarious things were for certain members of their Team. After a moment she sighed, recognizing that he was not about to volunteer much of anything.

"Who are you thinking of?" she prodded resignedly, feeling a little like she was a parent interrogating a recalcitrant child. Tony just smiled sweetly, or at least, as sweetly as a conspiratorial smile could be given.

"A couple of whos actually," he said with an absent, nonchalant gesture. Natasha narrowed her eyes further before scoffing in defeat when he didn't seem at all inclined to elaborate.

"Fine. Keep your secrets," she muttered dryly as she began turning away, slipping her phone from her pocket as she did.

"Payback," he quipped, causing Nat to spin to face him, an unmistakable look of exasperation on her face that Tony merely grinned at. She huffed, not deigning to dignify the taunt with a serious response as she looked down to her phone. She had something to do before turning to recruitment. A call she'd hoped she would have better news to share over…

Only to frown at a rather distinct symbol flashing in the upper left corner of her screen. Her breath nearly caught in a flash of panic. "Why don't I have cell service," she asked, fixing Tony with a piercing look. Tony hummed, her question registering after a moment.

"Oh, cascading effect of the power outage. EMP, by the way. Homemade and rather simple, to be honest, but effective; JCTC is bringing it back to examine now. But it hit the cell network around the city hard. It's still rebooting…so to speak. It should be back in a few minutes," he explained, sounding almost nonchalant. "I'd know better if Barnes hadn't smashed my glasses and my interface with them," he grumbled with a trace of his usual theatricality. He fixed her with a probing look then. "Why? Who would you call? Even if you could get Rogers on the phone, or your sister or Wilson, something tells me it'll take a little more than a phone call to reel in our Fugitives." Natasha pursed her lips. Much as she might like to try, she knew better. Even if she had a direct line to them, she knew Steve and Sam knew better than to accept any calls. It was a moot point, anyway. Neither of them had their phones anymore, having lost them when they'd been arrested. They were no doubt relying on burners by now, if they were risking cells at all.

And Nadine definitely didn't have her phone anymore.

It was in Natasha's pocket, after all.

No, it wasn't Nadine or the others she needed to try and call.

"Nina still doesn't know Nadine was even arrested," Natasha said softly "She was in class when I tried calling before. I could only leave a message and I wasn't about to tell her over text." Tony groaned, his head falling back. The reaction rather mirrored how Natasha felt just then, actually.

"It's probably news better delivered in person, anyway," Tony offered almost cheerfully after a moment, straightening. Natasha just blinked.

"You're volunteering?" Tony shot her a look at the clear doubt lacing her tone. "To tell Nina. How close have you two gotten?" He shrugged, and it didn't settle the odd feeling in her gut that she was missing something…he didn't know about her Enhancement, did he?

"Not quite at protégé," he answered almost flippantly, not quite looking to Natasha, "but in that realm. She's a smart kid. And back on point? Someone should probably tell her Mama Ghost is in the wind and I'm heading Stateside anyway." Natasha turned to face him fully, her arms crossing over her chest as she studied him. He was holding something back.

"She's not going to be able to tell you where Nadine is, you realize." Tony feigned a wounded expression, hand skimming over his heart.

"Obviously, Romanoff," he scoffed, as though offended that she'd thought he'd think as much. "Even if Ryker risked contacting Nina, I know Mini-Ghost wouldn't spill the beans, even to you." Natasha's lips pursed, not wholly satisfied. But Tony was in earnest.

"I'd still rather be the one to tell her," she said sedately after a moment. "In person or not, it should be me. She is my niece, after all." Tony just shrugged before standing.

"Your call," he quipped back as he crossed the conference room.

Before he could get too close to the door, Natasha stopped him, a concerned look rising to her features as she laid a cautioning hand on his bicep.

"Tony, I think we need to get Nadine on our side for this fight." He started, his brow furrowing even as his gaze became veiled and calculating.

"Ryker? You think we should recruit Ryker?" he blurted, incredulous. "Romanoff, you know that's not an option. Even if she wasn't a—she refused to sign. That makes it a no-go right there even if she wasn't already adamant that she wasn't going to get involved…not that that lasted long…" Natasha hesitated before fixing Tony with a firm look.

"If we don't, Steve will."

"Fact that she's just as in the wind as he is aside, you think she'll say yes to him? I know they're making goo-goo eyes at each other, but I thought she said she was getting out of this," he gestured absently around them before continuing, his voice pitching lower as he stepped closer to Natasha, "Besides, look where getting involved got her in Romania: she's not going to risk getting arrested again." Natasha was unmoved, her green eyes still serious even as she shrugged in response. She knew, deep down, that it was a long shot, but she couldn't fight the feeling that they needed to try. Nadine was quite possibly the best chance they had at convincing Steve to stand down. If they could at least get her to stay neutral…

"Maybe. She likes Steve even if she won't admit it. But you know very well that she's not concerned with getting caught—the simple fact that the JCTC couldn't hold her proved that—that the only real reason she's refusing to sign is because she wants to protect Nina—"

"—which means that, even if she wasn't one of the most wanted assassins in the world right now, she still couldn't join us, Romanoff—" Natasha's stomach twisted as she made a final bid. She needed Tony on board with this and that called for drastic measures…albeit one that left her feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

But it would worth it if it saved her sister's life.

"She has history with Barnes," she interrupted briskly. Tony paused mid-sentence, looking at Natasha critically. She gave him an impatient look, easily hiding her unease at letting herself divulge even part of Nadine's most closely guarded secret, even if she was twisting it to convince Tony…just slightly. "We both do, Stark. When we trained together under the KGB, the Winter Soldier was brought in as part of that training. Together Nadine and I were the only ones who were able to take him down, and we were still practically children. And we almost managed it again today." Tony visibly reeled, swaying on his feet as a chaos of emotions flashed across his face.

"And you didn't think that might be an important detail to share?" he demanded, the incredulity of a moment before dialled up another notch. She stood firm, though. Now was not the time to even consider rolling her eyes at his dramatics. This was painfully serious.

"And risk Secretary Ross nailing her to the wall? He's already been implying to the Committee that she helped Barnes escape even though Nadine was very clearly trying to help bring him down a couple hours ago. The fact that their gear is gone and the two missing agents from the parking garage IDd her as their assailant saw to that. Not to mention that he'd be pretty darn quick to bench me," she responded, her tone clearly clipped. "It's not a part of my life I like reliving, Tony." Tony's jaw clenched for a moment, refusing to look at her. But after a moment, he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he lifted a hand to knead at the bridge of his nose. A silent, dismissive gesture indicated he ceded to her point even if he was too stubborn to admit it aloud, stressed as he was just now.

He looked up to her, then.

"Does he have reason?" he asked quietly, a thread of accusation in his voice. "Ross? To bench you for conflict of interest?" Natasha inhaled slowly and let the breath back out before she responded. There was the hurt she'd caught a glimpse of earlier. He was still stung by the fact that Steve had so vehemently rejected Tony's efforts to secure him a way out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. She met his eye head on, careful not to give even the slightest cue that, while she had yet to outright lie, she was far from telling the whole truth.

Her instinct was still to protect her sister and niece above all else, after all.

"No," she said calmly. "There's a certain…kinship there, you could say, but no." His mind was churning behind his eyes as he studied her, impatience at her ambiguity clear in his voice.

"Meaning?" Natasha drew in another long, slow breath, considering before deciding to lay another card on the table. This was Tony. She trusted that he'd have her back. She knew that he wouldn't run to Ross with this. She knew without question that his loyalty was to the Team, first and foremost.

Just like her.

"Meaning, Nadine and me? We were the attempt to create a 2.0 of what they made him. We were intended to be the next step. All the skill, drive and single-minded focus to complete the mission but with our minds still intact alongside our programming." She shrugged then, feeling abruptly weary.

She hated thinking about that particular chapter in her past…and the implications that went with it.

"So we both understand him, Tony. Nadine and I both know what it's like to…" she cut herself off, reining back the surge of emotion that threatened to escape. "We're both more like him than the rest of you like to remember. For all intents and purposes, we  _were_  him, once," she finished softly. Impassively. Retreating back behind her mask as she did. Though his jaw clenched and his features settled stubbornly, that he was chastened by her admission was clear to the former assassin.

After a long, tense moment, she sighed.

"If we don't get to Nadine first, even if it's only to convince her to stay out of it, she will side with them," she finally continued seriously. Tony's brow furrowed as he glanced to Natasha, dark eyes serious and even faintly uneasy.

"Is it enough history that she'd make that call," he asked tightly. It wasn't much of a question. Truthfully? Natasha suspected he'd already correctly guessed the answer. Natasha schooled her features, willing her very real concern not to show on her face.

Her concern that it was inevitable she and her sister would be on opposite sides of this conflict.

"Yeah."

He had no idea.


	107. Chapter 32

**Upstate New York, USA**

**Spring 2016**

To say Pietro was in a foul mood was an understatement. But really, he'd been in some form of a foul mood for months now.

How could they just  _ground_  him?! And look what had happened because they did. No matter the niggle of doubt in the back of his mind at his twin's—everyone's, actually—reminder that he had no way of knowing, he was positive things would gone much better in Lagos had he been there. He was certain.

Then Wanda wouldn't be on the verge of retreating into her own head with guilt and uncertainty and fear. She wouldn't be bearing the brunt of the condemnation for what had happened…

Pietro sighed, struggling to rein his thoughts and his temper back.

That wasn't all true. He knew it wasn't that simple. He wasn't as naive as he had been; Ultron had seen to that. The Team had made sure it was a lesson that stuck, Romanoff and Ms. Ryker forcing him to actually take the time to think before he did anything over the course of training, not letting up until the habit stuck…for the most part. Even though he knew they all worried that he hadn't internalized one thing they'd said, he had listened to what Ms. Ryker and Romanoff and Captain Rogers had said to him. He'd listened to Nina. He knew he was hot-headed. He grudgingly understood why the Captain has benched him despite the huge asset he knew he was to the Team. He knew there was no guarantee that, had he been in Lagos, things would've fallen out any differently, much less better. He knew things might very well have been worse.

But he also knew people were calling for Wanda to be locked up because she was 'too dangerous'. No matter that everyone had all but banned him from watching TV or hopping onto the internet, he wasn't oblivious.

Hard to be anyway when apparently they were under house-arrest, now. Wanda had been almost frightfully pale when he'd walked into the common room to hear Vision explaining that Stark had made it clear neither of them were supposed to leave the Compound. Pietro had nearly lost his temper at that. Even Vision's calm explanation that it was for their own safety and that it was the best of several alternatives did little to ease either Wanda indignation and pain or Pietro's outrage at the directive.

He bit back a groan, scrubbing a hand over his face before speeding around the track again. Several laps and barely a second later, genuinely panting this time from the effort of pushing himself further and faster still, he spared a glance at his time. He smirked. An extra two laps with barely an extra millisecond added to his time.

But the expression faded quickly in the face of his aggravation. He needed to cool down, he knew that. Normally Wanda's presence was enough to help him relax and get his head back, but given how his guilt and worry threatened whenever he so much as looked at his twin just now? Wanda had all but banned him from her presence. He unnerved her right now, she said. Really, he was unnerving himself…

And his other option was effectively off the table too…though, he was seriously considering just ignoring Stark's directive and slipping away to visit Nina. Right now? His girlfriend was the only one who had any true success in helping him get his head back, her sunny features and the quiet way she just listened helped more than he thought she knew.

But…tempting an option as that was? To sneak away to find some manner of comfort in Nina's soothing presence? He was just as reluctant as he was longing. And not just because it was potentially dangerous to risk revealing just how closely linked she was to the Avengers. She could be formidable when her temper was up, too. She could go just as cool and hard as her mom, when she was upset. And right now?

Nina had every right to be upset.

And she was. Quite. He'd found that out when she'd called him, expecting it to be his turn to be the listening ear once she'd heard the news Romanoff had passed on that Ms. Ryker has been arrested in Bucharest right alongside Captain Rogers and Wilson.

Only to realize within moments of answering the phone that she didn't know yet, having only just gotten out of class…and having been unable to get through to her aunt. To say she had sounded on the verge of panic went without saying.

"I just heard: Steve's been arrested?" she'd said, barely pausing long enough to breathe or even properly say hi, she was so worked up. "And Sam?" It was then that his stomach had dropped and he'd realized was had—or hadn't, as the case was—happened. He very much hadn't wanted to be the one to tell her. He'd hoped she would've checked her messages already. Wanda had said Natasha told her she was going to tell Nina when she'd told him the news.

"Nina—"

"What for?" she'd continued, as though she hadn't even heard him. "They're—"

"Did you talk to your aunt yet?" Pietro only just barely managed to break in, but Nina's mind was effectively glued to the track it was on.

"It keeps going straight to voicemail," she blurted out anxiously before returning to her previous thought without even hesitating. "They said something about—" Pietro had honestly felt sick in that moment as full bore dread mingled abruptly with stinging shards of furious disbelief, his breath catching painfully as it felt like he'd just been kicked in the chest. The realization had burned in his chest—it still burned, really. How could Romanoff not answer? This was Nina and her mom they were talking about?! This was something she needed to know. As Nina had let her nerves run away with her mouth, Pietro had wavered between shock, anger and his own set of nerves. It was something she needed to know. Between one heartbeat and the next—an eternity for him, at times—he'd made his decision…and wished silently that he had his twin's tact… But there had been nothing for it.

"Nina!" He cut her off mid-sentence, easily able to picture her with her mouth still open and ready to continue. At least until he continued. "Nina, it wasn't just Rogers and Wilson arrested."

Nina was silent for so long Pietro was afraid the call had dropped, even going so far as to open his mouth to ask if she was still there.

"They have my mom too, don't they," she had whispered fearfully then, though there was an edge to her own voice that had sent a nervous shiver down Pietro's spine. She sounded like her mom in that instant. Or rather, like The Ghost.

He hadn't even had a chance to answer, to confirm what she'd realized on her own.

She'd hung up on him. Actually hung up, without a word.

Pietro's gut still ached at the realization that that's what had happened. He'd honestly stared at his phone's screen for almost a full minute, unable to quite process what had happened. Any of it, not just the hanging up part.

And then he'd promptly let out a string of colourful curses that Wanda would've vehemently disapproved of.

But what was really not helping? He could get it. He knew why she'd hung up. Not only because he knew Nina, but because of the virtue of his twin sister ensuring that he was not quite so oblivious to the mysteries of the female mind as many other males. Or, at least, he was pretty sure that was the case. He'd learned fairly early on what was prudent when dealing with girls purely because his sister was his other half.

So he was pretty sure Nina had hung up because she was just too shocked and scared and angry to think straight. Similar to how Wanda had screamed at him and physically shoved him from her room when he'd tried to make her feel better about Lagos. Of course, he'd gotten carried away and, in retrospect, gone about it the wrong way, but that was beside the point. Wanda had been too hurt and guilty and angry with herself to be receptive and he should have known that. He had known, but had recklessly assumed that because he was her twin, he would easily be able to get through to her.

Yeah, looking back, that had been a stupid assumption.

But he'd learned from it. He'd backed off—as much as he could, at least—and let his twin come to him. That had worked out much better.

So here, he intended to do the same for Nina. Let her fume and process for as long as she needed and once she was ready for comfort or talking or whatever, he would be right there already.

Really, if he wasn't so worked up and anxious himself, he'd be smugly proud at what a good boyfriend he was being.

It wasn't that simple, sadly. Pleased with himself as he was over how maturely he was taking his girlfriend's reaction, it was still getting to him. The whole situation was. The Accords, whatever was going on in Bucharest with Ms. Ryker and Captain Rogers, Nina's obvious terror and anger over the whole thing. Wanda and her fearful reaction over the Accords and Stark's directive for them both to stay sequestered away in the Compound especially was getting to him.

And the fact that, despite his resolve to wait until Nina was ready to talk, he was antsy over how long she was taking. Surely she should be ready to talk by now, right?

Really, he might not even have minded if she'd stayed on the phone and proceeded to yell and cry and vent. He'd done it with her…except the crying part, of course. And she'd always listened. He could do that for her, no problem.

Okay, perhaps that was wishful thinking, he mused, knowing how short his own fuse was just now and how he had a well known tendency to grow sullen and snap back, especially given his current mood trend without Wanda's tempering influence. But the intention had to count for something, right?

He was so edgy he nearly jumped out of his skin as his phone started ringing, painfully loud in the large, empty space of the Compound's track.

And he nearly contemplated letting it ring for a minute. Understandable though it was, he was still somewhat grumpy that Nina had hung up on him.

But before he could follow through on the idea, he had already crossed the room and was tapping the accept button—all before the first ring had even fallen silent.

"I'm sorry," was blurted into his ear almost as soon as the call finished connecting.

"You didn't have to hang up on me though," he said peevishly, his accent thickening. Not that it entirely hid the hurt in his voice, either. Silently he berated himself for that bit. He hadn't intended for that to slip out. A small, sad sound reached him over the phone. "I would've understood if you'd just…said something. I could've helped…or listened or something…" he trailed off lamely. He'd already considered what likely would have happened had they done that. The small, sad sound was followed by a sound he rather suspected was a strangled attempt not to giggle. Of course she'd had the same thought…she did know him better than he knew her at times…

"I know," she assured him, sounding fondly amused. "You would've tried valiantly to listen." He huffed, but couldn't quite bring himself to mind her gentle teasing. Though still faintly hollow, she sounded much more like herself. "But I think we both know you don't have the patience right now." I don't think either of us do." Absently he shrugged, humming in tacit agreement. It was true.

"I could've come up there," he countered boldly. "It's easier in person." This time she did giggle.

"But I thought you said you and Wanda weren't allowed to leave the Compound right now." He sneered silently at the question.

"As if that would stop me," he dismissed confidently, grinning widely no matter that she couldn't see it. She laughed before sobering.

"As much as I might have liked that, it still probably wouldn't have been a good idea. Not with the way everyone here is so on edge about Enhanced…especially the Avengers," she added bitterly. He could get that, irritable as the reminder of some of the things Nina had told him she'd overheard on campus made him. Before he'd just been able to brush the ridiculous criticisms off…but after Lagos…

"Anyway," Nina continued, her voice still tense but revealing a small measure of relief that had Pietro letting out a long, silent exhale. In a blink he was sliding down to sit against the wall of the indoor track. "I heard from Aunt Nat—" And at once Pietro's temper sparked again.

"Did she explain why she was ignoring you?" he grumbled out, still indignant on Nina's behalf.

"Pietro," Nina admonished automatically, though she didn't sound in the least bit surprised by his outburst, "it wasn't her fault." He opened his mouth to object; of course it was if she hadn't answered, "something happened. In Berlin." And what he'd intended to say died on his tongue at the sudden grave, even frightened cast to Nina's tone.

"What happened?" he asked, sensing her reluctance, the tense silence in her end a glaring clue. He had a feeling he already knew.

"The Winter Soldier went on a rampage and escaped," Nina finally explained softly. Okay, not…precisely what he'd imagined. "And in the chaos, Steve, Sam and…and my Mom slipped away after him." There it was.

"Are we surprised Ms. Ryker gave them the slip?" he asked with an attempt at cheer. "Your mom is crazy skilled." Not that it entirely worked. He hoped at the very least he'd managed to elicit a small smile, though.

"No," she admitted, the hint of a smile in her tone. "No, I suppose it's not. I just…" she hesitated, likely gathering her thoughts. "It's just I'm worried about her," she admitted unhappily. "I haven't heard from her yet to tell me she's okay and…and I'm not sure I'm going to." The mix of certainty and uncertainty in her voice was unsettling to say the least and Pietro shifted uncomfortably.

"But it's your Mom," Pietro objected. "She always—"

"I think this time is different," Nina interrupted, her voice a hollow whisper.

"She'll find a way," Pietro assured her with as much confidence as he could muster—it wasn't hard. As nervous as Ms. Ryker made him with the way her impassive looks made him feel like he'd gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar, it wasn't hard to admire her and her impressive range of skills. There were times Pietro had even found himself in awe of the blonde assassin. Not that he'd admit as much aloud; he did have a reputation to uphold, after all. "She always has something up her sleeve." Nina gave a small, uncertain hum.

"I hope you're right," she said. "But this time…" she faltered before giving in and voicing her fears, taking Pietro up on his implied offer to listen, her word coming faster and faster as her mind began to run away with her mouth. "This time she's actually got people after her. She's got  _Tony_  and  _Nat_  after her, this time, Pietro…and Natasha's not sure how much they're going to be able to do to help her if they find her. Apparently they have orders from the Accords committee to bring Mom and the Winter Soldier in by any means necessary! And that Mom seems to be going after the Winter Soldier with Steve and Sam on top of it? Like Nat seems to think she's doing…" she trailed off, then, her runaway train of thought coming to a screeching halt. Pietro frowned again, feeling rather helpless even as his temper was once more struggling to flare.

Only for it to dim as Nina's next words startled him from that train of thought.

"Did you know the Winter Soldier used to be Steve's friend? Before—well, before he was the Winter Soldier?" Pietro frowned, started by the question. Had the Captain ever said anything about the Winter Soldier around him? At once he was struggling to remember, an absent little niggle in the back of his mind seeming to think there had been one time… Maybe. He wasn't sure, though. He couldn't remember so it was as good as not knowing, as far as he was concerned.

"I don't think so," he answered. "I don't think Captain Rogers ever said anything." Nina hummed distractedly, not sounding wholly satisfied. The furrow between Pietro's brows deepened; at this rate he was going to develop a permanent line on his forehead…his nose wrinkled distastefully at the thought.

"I feel like," she burst out, "like there's just too much feeling and stuff and—ugh…my head feels a bit like it's about to explode…you know?" Pietro hummed in agreement. He did know and he could definitely sympathize. He was feeling rather similarly, at the moment, what with his temper and feelings of helplessness and worry over Nina and Wanda and everything going on gnawing at him.

"Yeah," he murmured back, unable to entirely hide his own tense frustration. It felt like it was vibrating in his chest, the need to  _do_  something. It was why he'd spent the last hour on his workout and trying to push his abilities before Nina had finally called him back.

After a moment Nina sighed.

"It's just…first the Accords and everyone stressing about them there and here, then this Winter Soldier thing—getting caught and then escaping—and Aunt Nat nearly getting blown up and Mom getting arrested and now disappearing too along with Steve and Sam…and—" He leaned forward with yet another frown, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as she trailed off with a distracted huff. He might not have his twin's knack for understanding people, but he liked to think he knew Nina pretty well. There was something else bothering her. Not that everything she'd listed wasn't more than enough. It was just a gut-feeling. The way she'd cut herself off again, like there was something else she'd held herself back from saying?

"Nina?" he prompted when she didn't continue. She sighed again, her tone almost frantic yet at the same time even resigned. Definitely distracted though. Even frustrated. It was puzzling, to be sure.

"It's…it's about this whole Winter Soldier business. I just…" she cut herself off with a small, irritable scoff. "I—oh, I don't even know what I'm thinking. This whole Steve and the Winter Soldier thing is really messing with my head, I suppose. Especially now that Nat said Mom might be running off after them both."

"Nina—" he repeated warily, the feeling like there was something Captain Rogers had said ages ago now about the Winter Soldier once again niggling at the back of his mind. Something he still couldn't quite put his finger on. Had it been after Seoul? Now that he was thinking about it, he was pretty sure it was something Wanda had said…he should probably ask her. She'd remember. He heard Nina sigh yet again. This was just a conversation of sighs and unseen frowns, wasn't it. He couldn't say he'd be surprised if Nina had spent most of their conversation with a frown on her face too. He knew he had.

"It's okay, Pietro," Nina cut in, sounding weary and definitely frustrated, her voice tight. Not with him…he hoped. He was pretty sure it wasn't because of him. He was fairly sure she was frustrated with herself over something. Not to mention likely doing her best not to freak out about her Mom…and her Aunt…and everything else…

"Do you want me to come there?" he asked softly. He could swear he almost felt her smile.

"No," she replied fondly. "No, it's okay. I'm okay. I just need some time to think. Thank you, though." He wasn't wholly convinced, blinking to his feet and beginning to head back toward his rooms. Maybe he should head to Cambridge anyway…

"You're sure," he prodded, a smirk coming to his face "I could be there in—" A laugh burst from Nina at his playfully wheedling tone.

But as she began to reply—still sounding much too distracted, he noted with a petulant huff—she cut herself off. "I—Look, Pietro, I have to go. Someone's knocking." Pietro barely managed a murmured goodbye in response to hers before he hung up.

For right at that moment, an explosion lit up the night outside the bank of windows he was passing from the other end of the Compound.

In an instant he was dashing back to the main building of the Compound searching for Wanda; first her room once he reached the Avengers' wing, then up to the Common Area.

Only to stop dead in his tracks in surprise to see Barton talking hurriedly to his twin even as he sent an arrow into the wall over the stairs and another into the end of the kitchenette's island. The archer's lip quirked as he looked up to Pietro, grabbing Wanda's hand as he did so.

"Cap needs our help," he was saying to Wanda even as he shot Pietro a questioning look.

Pietro didn't need to be asked twice…or at all, if he was being literal. This was  _exactly_  the kind of thing he'd been waiting for, what he'd been needing; the opportunity to  _do_  something.

In a blink he was racing away. In seconds he was slipping into the Gear Room of the Compound, and in the span of a pair of heartbeats, he was locating and stuffing his gear and Wanda's into a duffel. He'd seen the hesitation on his twin's face as Barton tried to pull her along, but Pietro was certain they'd get through to her quickly enough.

She was like him, after all. She felt the same need to do the right thing he did. The need to  _do_  something even if she was still smarting from Lagos.

She just needed to remember that.

And Barton would get through to her. The archer had somehow connected with his twin in Sokovia and, defensive as he was about that, Pietro couldn't quite deny that her admiration and trust for Barton was good for Wanda. Yes. Barton would turn Wanda around where he and Nina hadn't quite managed…yet. They would've gotten there, he was sure.

The thought died, though, as he dashed back up to the Common Area to meet up with Barton and Wanda.

Just in time to see Vision's hand slam into Barton's chest, sending him flying backward. And Pietro dropped the duffel.

Before it even thumped against the tile floor he was racing forward, his jaw set and all the frustration building and festering deep in his chest over the last few month fanned to life, fuelling his resolve…not that it did much good.

No sooner was he drawing back his arm to strike at Vis, than the synthezoid's arm had snaked out, catching Pietro's chest and throwing him back as Barton had been. His own momentum against him, Pietro flew back even more spectacularly than the archer, toppling over the railing guarding the far end of the room to crash into the wall before landing with a heavy grunt on the stairs. Dazed, it took him a moment to regain his bearings, jerking from his prone position as his equilibrium came flooding back. With a snarl that came out more like grimace, he was back on his feet in a heartbeat and was flying back up the stairs.

Just in time to see Wanda send a struggling Vision crashing down through the floor as a haze of vibrant scarlet erupted from her hands into the synthezoid's chest.

Pietro wasn't afraid to admit, in that moment, he was speechless. He knew his sister was incredible and incredibly powerful…but that was something else.

And the low whistle he let out to vocalize his awe promptly earned him a sharply admonishing look from his sister and a poorly concealed grin from Barton.

"C'mon," the archer said as he peered curiously down into the hole Wanda had created. He glanced to Pietro, then, nodding over to the abandoned duffel. "We got one more stop." Pietro had already retrieved the duffel before Barton had even finished speaking, only to falter as he registered what he said. His eyes narrowed at the archer.

"Nina?" he asked warily. His stomach flipped at the thought that Nina might be coming with them to help the Captain even as his stomach twisted into knots at the idea that she could join what was likely going to end up being a fight; that Barton was wearing his gear made it seem likely that was what he was anticipating.

Barton shook his head though, sparing a reassuring glance to a suddenly alarmed looking Wanda. "No," he added with a trace of a wry smile, "we considered it, but she's not been outed to the Accords like we all have and Steve would like to keep it that way. Besides, Nadine wouldn't go for that at all. So Nina's staying safely in Cambridge." Before he could help himself, Pietro let out a relieved sigh.

Well, that was one less thing to worry about…not that Nina was likely going to be happy about being left behind…in fact, she'd probably be furious.

But Pietro pushed the errant thought aside. It was better this way. Barton didn't have to say it, but Pietro knew in his gut that what they were doing was far from sanctioned. That was not a situation any of them wanted to see Nina in. His resolve on the matter strengthened as Wanda caught his eye, her features grim and mirroring his own. Better that Nina stay out of this.

Even if she'd be furious and hurt about being left behind.

So, at a gesture from the archer who had come to collect them, the Maximoff Twins followed him out of the Avengers Compound and into the night.


	108. Chapter 33

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

So far everything seemed to be going, if not precisely according to plan, at least decidedly in their favour. As agreed, a couple hours after they parted ways, Sharon and Nadine rendezvoused at the business complex the JCCTF agent had chosen, slipping into the car in the carefully chosen corner of the lot Nadine had cased; minimal camera coverage, good sightlines and easy access to exit points were a must when evading notice, after all, and Nadine was more than well-practiced at effortlessly taking note and taking advantage of such things. No sooner had Sharon shut the door behind her, and Nadine was pulling smoothly away.

Not drawing too much attention while still making a clean, quick departure? Child's play.

Then it was just a matter of waiting. That part Nadine had been less than enthusiastic about, recognition of their limited alternate options aside.

She'd already spent more than enough time waiting, today. Waiting for the right moment to make her escape back in the JCTC. Waiting for the time to pass and Sharon to rendezvous.

Time spent alone with nothing but her own conflicted thoughts to keep her company. Thoughts that she hadn't entirely been able to subdue and properly compartmentalize. Thoughts that she'd grudgingly allowed that she needed to examine and try to deal with.

Well, at least one small benefit had ultimately come of that. She'd had more than enough time to finally process everything that had happened since she'd first seen Barnes lying on the pavement and had successfully—mostly—reconciled herself to everything that had happened at the JCTC. She had come to terms with how things had fallen out, even coming to see that it wasn't as bad a development as she'd feared. After all, if she and Nat  _had_  been able to subdue Barnes, he would've ended up back in custody. As it stood? Right this moment, she was seeing the situation as, on some level, a blessing in disguise. Though fugitives, she was free, as was Barnes and Steve and Sam. They had a chance now that they didn't once they'd all be caught in Bucharest.

Not that the conclusion sat entirely right with her.

But dwelling over it was less than helpful, so though she didn't entirely dismiss the feeling, she had carefully hidden away her unease, her training demanding she present the picture of calm composure; she knew better than to ignore instincts of that nature.

Not that her projected calm had been easy to maintain once Sharon had handed her a small red-leather book. She didn't even have to say anything for Nadine to know what it was, barely hearing the younger woman explain she'd found it hidden beneath the table debris down in the chamber where Barnes had been held and slipped away with it before anyone else had noticed it was there. Nor did she even need to open the deceptively soft, supple binding. If anything, the chill that had run up Nadine's spine the instant she saw Sharon slip it from the interior pocket of her vest—like cold, trembling fingers danced their way up her vertebra to prod at the back of her mind—had been clue enough.

It was the book used to activate Barnes' programming.

The single black star embossed on the cover gave it away.

She'd forced herself to at least flip through it once she'd taken it with shaking fingers, the pages flashing by as she did setting her stomach to twisting and churning from the merest glimpses alone. It was a record of how the Winter Soldier had been created and how to control him. A manual, in effect.

It was horrific.

And Nadine couldn't bring herself to truly read it. Not yet…if ever. She could barely breathe at the thought, feeling physically ill just from holding it in her hands. Part of her desperately wanted to destroy it. But no matter the strength of that urge, she restrained it. It might still have some use, after all. It might very well be the key to undoing what had been done to Barnes, and that was a potential benefit she couldn't bear to risk losing. Not even with the simultaneous risk its continued existence posed. What mattered now was that it was safe in her possession. No one would use it on Barnes while she had it.

That didn't make it any easier to possess. If anything, it left the slender book feeling as heavy as the car she sat in with Sharon Carter where it was safely tucked away in her jacket. And with each passing moment while they waited for some sort of sign, the odd smatter of quiet small talk passing between Nadine and her unexpected companion, it only seemed to grow heavier.

Mercifully the signal that their wait was over came far sooner than she had cautiously hoped.

Just over an hour after picking up Sharon, the agent's phone buzzed softly, and a look of relief softened her face as she pulled up the incoming text.

"Steve's made contact," she confirmed softly, though Nadine truthfully didn't need it. Who it was had been plain to see without even seeing the message. Sharon's reaction had spoken volumes. Not to mention that she promptly started the car.

But old habits—and cautions—died hard, and Nadine grabbed firm hold of her relief, restraining it as she fixed Sharon with an assessing look.

"And you're sure it's him?" Nadine asked the younger agent softly. Sharon spared her a brief, unreadable glance from the message she was typing back. Looking back to her phone, she nodded absently before hitting the send button and handing the cell to Nadine. Nadine nearly blinked in confusion at the nonsense collection of characters on the screen even as the analytical part of her rationalized that it must be a code.

As Sharon eased the car from where they'd parked down one of many quiet side streets that littered the outer boroughs of Berlin, Nadine's eyes narrowed as she automatically started puzzling it out. There was something vaguely familiar about it if she was deciphering it properly. Evidently, it was clear that she was not immediately familiar with the code.

"It's an old Howling Commandos code," Sharon finally said, confidence in her assessment clear in her voice and amusement faintly visible in her eyes as she spared Nadine another glance. She efficiently guided the car onto the main thoroughfare that they'd come down when they'd slipped out of Berlin proper. "Aunt Peggy and Steve apparently worked a few of them up with Stark's dad back during the War. She taught me a couple of them when I was a kid." The corner of her lip quirked sadly. "Kept me occupied for a lot of rainy afternoons when my parents had to work weekends." Nadine looked up, a small, nostalgic pang beneath her breastbone; she'd done the same with Nina, really, occupying her daughter with puzzles and codes she'd grown-up with to keep Nina occupied on so-called boring afternoons. Sharon's head canted minutely, undoubtedly refocusing from the fond memories of her recently passed aunt. She met Nadine's eye for a brief instant, a faint grin surfacing.

"That I know many of them came up in conversation with Steve at the Reception," she explained. Somewhat unnecessarily, but Nadine didn't mind. The pair of them had fallen into a surprisingly easy companionship in their brief time waiting for Steve and Sam to reach out to Sharon as Sam had apparently intimated they would back at the JCTC once they'd gotten somewhere safe and secure.

And suddenly it clicked with Nadine and she only barely restrained an exasperated huff, a soft, sharp exhale escaping her instead. Of course. In their lessons to Nina and the twins, Natasha and Nadine had spared some time to teach them about what Nat had fondly referred to as 'old-school' techniques; codes and ciphers and methods of transmitting and conveying them that, in the modern age, were often considered obsolete if they were remembered at all. But that didn't stop such methods from being effective. Nat's use of such methods had been key in tracing her location and thus that of Ultron's base of operations after the redhead had been kidnaped by the sociopathic robot, after all. If Nadine's memory served, Natasha had brought in several of Steve's old Howling Commandos codes as case studies.

Sure enough, once the memory surfaced, the pattern to the message that had been hovering just beyond the edge of Nadine's mind slipped into reach. And now that she knew what she was looking for? It all fell together rather quickly from there.

Another moment of contemplation and Nadine was able to decipher the message staring up at her from the screen of Sharon's phone.

_Soldier to Nurse: The doctor needed intel_ , the message read, earning a faint frown from Nadine as she puzzled momentarily over Sharon's address. But really, that was the only part of the message she stumbled over. The rest was relatively straightforward.  _Source secure with Soldier and Bird._ Steve, Sam and Barnes were safe and secure.

Just below Steve's message, encoded the same way was Sharon's reply of  _supplies secured, neighbor - delivery arranged in one hour_. The message ended with a set of coordinates.

Coordinates that received an acknowledgement even as Nadine finished deciphering them.

And before she could help herself, Nadine was letting out a relieved exhale of her own, some of the anxious tension she'd been trying and failing to consciously dissipate finally leaving her body. Not all of it, of course, but enough that it felt like she could breathe a little freer, relax into the passenger seat just a touch more.

"Acknowledged," Nadine repeated aloud, her finger hovering over the characters that had appeared on the screen as though caressing them. She nearly jerked when she realized she was doing it. Sharon just nodded, not even looking over. She'd heard the soft ping.

But what she said in response was not at all what Nadine had anticipated.

"So how long have you and Steve been together," Sharon asked then, her curiosity poorly concealed behind a veneer of nonchalance and small talk. Nadine fought not to tense once more, though her stomach began to flutter happily despite the uneasy concern that Sharon's question had let loose.

Oh God, was that really what it looked like? Was the way she felt that obvious? She'd known Nat and Nina were well aware of Nadine's feeling for the Captain, but they knew her better than anyone else, even herself at times, so she'd thought little of it. Not to mention she hadn't been wholly sure they both had actually  _known_  how Nadine had felt, or if they'd been hoping or guessing. And Sam she'd figured had been tipped of by her sister.

But if Sharon, who barely knew her, could see it, had she really been concealing it so poorly? And if Sharon had seen it so easily…what did Steve see? All at once her gut was near jumping with nerves, pleased and otherwise.

She needed to fix this.

And not just because it made her feel inordinately vulnerable.

"We're not together," Nadine corrected as unconcernedly as she could managed. Not that it sounded as much to her. Sharon spared her a look of frank skepticism.

"Really? C'mon, you can't tell me you're not together."

Nadine shook her head, carefully fixing her expression to one of casual indifference balanced with a weary patience, as though it was a common misunderstanding that she was well used to clearing up. Well, that was partially true, in a way…she did seem to be repeatedly attempting to disabuse people of the notion that there was something between her and Steve, recently. "No. We're not," she repeated. She glanced to Sharon, pointedly—but not obviously so—meeting her eye; to avoid her eye would be a glaring indicator, as would looking too intently for too long, so she was careful to look away after little more than—what she hoped—was an earnest glance. She raised a brow, purposefully quirking the corner of her lip. "Besides, I imagine you have a better chance with him than I do, Carter," she said with a purposefully dismissive little gesture.

Sharon huffed, her dark eyes amused as she looked back to the road. They drove in silence for a short while, Sharon concentrating on their route and looking for the side street she needed. Once she found it, making use of it and accelerating toward the thoroughfare she needed to cut past another of Berlin's outlier neighbourhoods, she picked the topic right back up again.

Much to Nadine's dismay.

It was hard enough to keep herself from thinking about what she couldn't have without the younger woman needling her about Steve…

"Steve's a great guy—though I'm sure I don't need to tell you that," Sharon said with a trace of a smirk, "and for a while I thought there might be something there between us."

"You sure there isn't?" Sharon giggled—actually giggled—at Nadine's perfectly indolent tone. She ignored the sudden, pleased flutter beneath her breastbone.

"Pretty sure," Sharon repeated wryly. "His attention has definitely moved elsewhere." The loaded look she gave Nadine then said more than enough. It was hard not to scoff skeptically.

Steve didn't like her, she reminded herself forcefully. He couldn't. Not  _that_  way.

But Sharon's words dug in, joining forces with the insistent and rebellious little part of her that refused to stop insisting that there was the potential for  _more_  between them. The part that pointedly ignored and endured against every scrap of reason and rationality and objectivity that she had brought to bear.

The part of her that clung to the way Steve would smile at her when she laughed, or touch her arm when they walked.

The part that had hummed happily that he had seemed so relieved to see her at the funeral and grateful for the comfort she had tried her best to provide.

The part that had nearly caused her breath to catch with astonishment and contented vindication when he had confessed how he needed her by his side. That he trusted her as he did. That he had looked to her so earnestly and so intently…

The part that had swelled with hope and happiness when his lips had brushed against hers…

That part of her wished it had been a real kiss was entirely beside the point. Entirely inconsequential. Entirely foolish…what a futile…futile hope…her very thoughts faltered…

…then there was the way he'd looked at her after…

And the way he'd looked at her on the Quinjet in Vienna when she'd appeared despite saying she had to stay behind. Or when they'd all been arrested…and when she'd been taken away…

He hadn't even looked that devastated or that determined for Barnes…

And then it really, truly sunk in…the looks, the expressions she hadn't quite been able to read, the way his touch would linger…

Oh, God…it hadn't been wishful thinking, had it…

Steve actually  _liked_  her…

Nadine was suddenly fighting the urge to swallow convulsively, and the way she felt nearly lightheaded as the revelation broke over her like a gentle wave, warmth flooding through her veins as her chest suddenly felt tight with a blossoming of emotions she couldn't even begin to start naming.

That and a welling of pure, unadulterated panic that was suddenly pressing against her windpipe.

She really couldn't deny it, could she…Steve had developed feelings for her just as she had for him, hadn't he.

"Though, I do have to admit," Sharon said then, her soft, contemplative tone breaking through the staggering blur that Nadine's thoughts had become, "it was nice to reconnect with him. Despite the circumstances, of course," she added with a trace of a small, self-deprecating smile, her expression turning faintly thoughtful as she kept the bulk of her focus on the road.

And all at once a flare of bitter, sharp indignation tried to rise up in Nadine's chest, her breath catching at the potency of it even as she had to will her eyes not to narrow or flash to the younger woman. She was not jealous, she firmly told herself. Sharon had every right to consider pursuing Steve and vice versa. Nadine had no claim, she reminded herself, no matter her feelings and his. Nothing had been said and nothing should. That was the way it should be.

Perhaps Sharon could turn his affections away…

And the bitter well of emotion flared once more, this time tinged liberally with heartache.

"Well," Nadine forced herself to say, the effort to keep her voice friendly and casual nearly killing her, "you said it already; he is a great guy." She glanced to Sharon, practiced eye gauging how she interpreted Nadine's comment.

Only to swallow back an exasperated sigh at the almost convincing look of innocence on her face. The smug glint in her eyes gave it away.

Had she really walked right into that one?

Sharon shot Nadine a searching, eager look. "You're jealous," she declared merrily, "you do like him. You like Steve." Nadine's eyes widened inadvertently as she glanced over at the blonde agent. She huffed out a sigh after a moment, pointedly ignoring how her pulse had quickened nervously at the conviction behind the observation. That was not at all how Sharon was supposed to take everything she'd said. Leaning back against the headrest she stared sightlessly at the road ahead, ignoring Sharon's eager glances.

"There's nothing between me and Rogers," Nadine reiterated quietly but firmly, forcing an unconcerned tone. She needed to play this so carefully… Sharon actually snorted, earning a disapproving glance out of the corner of Nadine's eye.

"But you want there to be," Sharon resumed confidently. Nadine fought back an exasperated groan. She ignored the comment, knowing doing anything else would only fuel Sharon's curiosity. "So why aren't you two together?"

"Because there's nothing between us," Nadine repeated as patiently as she could, belatedly aware how her voice was tinged with impatience. This was very much not going the way it should be.

She was so far off her game it wasn't at all funny.

She inhaled slowly, reinforcing her projected indifferent calm. "Steve and I are colleagues, teammates, friends. Nothing more." Sharon shot Nadine a skeptical look that Nadine also ignored.

"Now it's Steve?"

"We're friends, colleagues. Yes, Steve," she repeated, her tone growing more like the one she used on Nina when her daughter was being obstinate with each passing moment. Obviously, it didn't have the same effect on Sharon…

"Why nothing more?" Sharon asked, genuinely curious now more than anything else. "You obviously like him, and I'd more than hazard a guess that he likes you too…a great deal."

"No he doesn't," Nadine maintained, despite the way she knew it was a lie. A heavy, weary weight seemed to settle on her shoulders. Revelation notwithstanding, it was still far better for everyone if he didn't. Sharon spared Nadine a thoughtful glance at the way she said it, sensing a decisive change in tone to the conversation.

"Why's that," she prompted gently when the former assassin didn't elaborate. Nadine glimpsed surreptitiously at the younger agent, maintaining her relaxed pose for a moment longer before straightening with a stifled sigh, turning to study Sharon.

Knowing what she did of Sharon?

Nothing short of the truth was likely to convince her.

Well? She'd proven trustworthy so far…what more did Nadine have left to lose save a little peace from the other woman inflaming the part of her she was fighting so hard to restrain…

"Because I had a—I have a past with his friend Barnes—Bucky, I guess—years ago…a lifetime ago, it seems now." A tired sigh did escape this time, earning a nearly concerned look from Sharon, "so even if Steve were to have feelings for me? He'd never act on them. He's far too honorable and far too loyal to his friend for that."

Why did that suddenly feel a lie too?

Because  _he'd_  been the one to kiss  _her_  the irrationally romantic part of her clinging to the fantasy of her and Steve insisted gently.

She refused to look to Sharon as the younger blonde spared her another brief, searching look.

"You love him," Sharon said softly then, nearly incredulous. Nadine fought back a denial; it wouldn't help her case, coming across as defensive. Before she could stop it, though, she let out a faint scoff. Sharon grinned, something Nadine didn't miss, drawing an impatient expression to the former assassin's face. She cut off the JCTTF agent before she could renew her insistence.

"I don't fall in love," she said firmly, quietly, "the urge and the ability was trained out of me a long time ago. I'm not in love with him." Sharon raised a skeptical eyebrow as an unconvinced hum preceded her reply.

"Somehow I don't quite believe you," she said with unexpected gentleness despite her wry tone. Nadine bit back an exasperated sigh. Why did she even try? Sharon obviously didn't believe her. But she wasn't. She couldn't be in love with Steve…could she?

She suddenly couldn't breathe.

And her eyes slid shut against the painful…comforting…bewildering truth she'd been fighting so hard to ignore and argue away…

But she didn't get a chance to let the realization form into a single, devastating, coherent thought.

It was a small mercy.

Beside her, Sharon's demeanour shifted as she spotted the overpass and the exit to the service road that darted beneath it just ahead that she'd evidently been looking out for, the other woman straightening as her professionalism once again emerged.

"We're here."

To her reluctant relief—a perplexing feeling all its own—Nadine had no choice but to brush all thought on the possibility that she might very well have fallen in love with Steve Rogers aside.

And sparing Sharon an impassive look as the car slowed to a stop, she slipped from the car.


	109. Chapter 34

**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

Without a word and only a barely perceptible nod, Steve acknowledged Sam's next set of directions, guiding the old model Beetle off the main street and onto a side one that would cut them across one of Berlin's outer neighbourhoods and bring them closer still to the rendezvous point. None of them said much. Likely because there wasn't a whole lot to say. Steve knew he, at least, had a great deal on his mind.

More Winter Soldiers? In addition to the conviction that they needed to be confronted and the doctor stopped, there was an undeniable thread of dismay and even anxiety surging through his veins like cold adrenaline over the prospect. This was not at all what he wanted to be doing.

This was something the Team should be doing. All of them. Together.

But that wasn't to be and Steve pushed the thought aside. There was no point dwelling. Especially since there was every chance they were going to have to go through the rest of their former Team to do this.

Steve was very much not looking forward to that possibility. Nat was as good as his best friend from this time, and he trusted her implicitly as he knew she trusted him; a hard won trust that he could recognize the immeasurable value of, given her past. And Tony? While he wasn't nearly as close to the billionaire as he had been to Howard, Steve still didn't hesitate to call Tony a friend. Heck, there were even times he felt a sort of kinship toward the man, like how he'd always imagined he might feel for a nephew. It was a bizarre feeling to be sure, especially considering how, if discounting the years Steve had spent frozen, Tony was arguably the older of them when going by years lived. But that didn't change how Steve felt. Tony was his good friend's son. And he was his friend in his own right.

He didn't want to fight Tony or Nat or Rhodes. Likely Vision too, if he knew Tony.

They were his Team. His friends.

But the Accords had made them adversaries.

And it made him feel viscerally ill.

It was that threat that made his reservations about what they were about to do all the more potent.

Especially since he was pulling others in with him. He spared a covert glance to Sam. Sam, whose loyalty was without equal. Who was willing to jump into the fight without hesitation even though he could easily walk away. It was made all the worse by his suspicions about his friend and Nat. He was fairly certain the two of them had something, and now Sam was about to be standing across the field from the redheaded operative. Not to mention the friendship the former paratrooper had struck up with Rhodes since they'd both joined the team, no matter that they'd been bickering almost constantly about the Accords in recent days.

And then there was Clint and Nat, the near epitome of best friends, standing on either side of the divide. And the Twins—especially Wanda—against Vision, who'd grown close…

Steve's gut clenched. If it came down to a fight between the Avengers, he wasn't going to be the only one facing a fight against friends.

Because of Steve.

No, not because of him, Steve forcibly reminded himself. He hadn't orchestrated this—the bombing, the Accords, Siberia—he was just stepping up because no one else seemed willing to see what was happening. Sam had chosen to come. So had Bucky. And Clint, and the Twins.

They all knew they would likely have to get past friends in order to deal with the doctor and his machinations.

But still. Guilt and unease swirled and twisted in his gut as Steve guided the Beetle off the main road and onto the service road Sam had pointed out. He spared Sam another brief look, taking in the faint trace of tension in the other man's features. Tension similarly echoed on Bucky's face as his oldest friend met his eye in the rear view mirror.

Back at the JCTC he'd known he'd missed something. He was still kicking himself over not having seen that all of it—the bombing, the search, Bucky's arrest—had all be a set up to get access to Bucky until it was too late. He should have seen it.

If only he'd seen it sooner…

But that 'what if' inevitably led to the question of what might he reasonably have been able to change if he had seen it sooner.

He honestly didn't know the answer.

So he shuffled the thought away. There was no point in dwelling on it. Not when there was so much else crowding his already conflicted thoughts. Not with what they were heading for.

Siberia alone had the potential to be a bitter fight. If they had to go through their friends to get there? People they cared about? He fought against the urge to glance to Sam again.

Lord, he couldn't imagine how he'd be handling the idea of being forced to genuinely fight Nadine.

His stomach twisted once more, though this time with an unsettling mix of guilt, nerves and…most distractingly…hope.

Definitely distracting. Especially as there was a very good chance she had disappeared for good. It was the smart thing for her to do, after all. He knew she'd made it out of holding in the JCTC. Sam had mentioned he was pretty sure he'd caught a glimpse of her, and Bucky was just as sure he'd gone up against her—the man wincing sharply as he recalled throwing her through a window.

But as to whether or not she'd slipped away as they had? That they were all less certain about. And it left Steve's gut in knots of worry.

After the way she'd pulled away after he'd given in and kissed her? Steve didn't have to have her or Natasha's skills at reading people to recognize that he'd spooked her. Or that she'd wanted it but thought she couldn't—shouldn't—have it. That much had been almost painfully clear.

He'd practiced it long enough that he knew self-denial when he saw it.

So he'd resolved that the ball was in her court, as it were, and let it be no matter that part of him just wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she realized he wanted something with her just as much she did with him.

But he still really shouldn't have done it, even if he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It hadn't been a good time. Not with their search for Bucky coming to a head. He'd unbalanced her. He knew that, and part of him wondered if that hadn't been a factor in Nadine getting caught as she had. That and seeing Bucky again?

Not to mention he still hadn't known where Bucky's feelings stood when it came to her. He knew now, of course, now that he knew about Iris, though he still intended to ask when a more appropriate opportunity arose. But every bit of rationale he had pointed to his timing being wildly off.

And then their arrests and the doctor activating Bucky's programming had further complicated everything and further jeopardized the likelihood that they'd be able to confront whatever this was growing between them any time soon.

But after even the fleeting touch of his lips to hers…

He wanted more. In every way. No matter that he really shouldn't.

But he had been prepared to try valiantly to let it go. To let her go even though the very idea made his chest clench and his skin feel cold. Especially after seeing the way Bucky had been looking at her…and the way she'd been so affected by seeing Bucky again.

Though truthfully? He wasn't sure he could, anymore.

He swallowed back a groan. Maybe he should have just come out and said it. That he liked her. That he thought there was something more than friendship between them. Nadine, in many ways, was a lot like her sister, and Steve knew both she and Nat both appreciated directness. A byproduct of their days learning to deal in and speak in riddles and double entendres and hidden meanings, he imagined.

Why hadn't he just come out and told her…

He really was the master of waiting too long, wasn't he…

But there had been reasons not to. The timing, the fact that they were in the middle of a mission where distraction of that magnitude could—and perhaps even had—proved dangerous. The history she had with Bucky…

But then, after the conversation with Bucky in the abandoned warehouse? After Bucky's revelations about five more Winter Soldiers being secreted away in Siberia had sunk in?

And Bucky had rather definitively proven his heart belonged to another woman? A woman who wasn't Nadine?

Well, how did the old phrase go? Hope springs eternal?

He couldn't help but think that, perhaps, maybe he should have spoken up back in her Workshop anyway. That, maybe, he might have missed his best chance.

Especially since he now knew Bucky had a woman of his own that he'd fallen for. Hard, if Steve was still any judge.

"That her?" Steve was pulled from his thoughts at the sight of a black sedan just up ahead, parked in the shadow of the overpass the service road they had turned off onto was set to pass under. Once again on alert, Steve eased the old Beetle he had…acquired a short distance away from the much newer car.

Sure enough, as he killed the ignition on their car and stepped out, the figure inside the black sedan similarly shifted, the door opening to reveal Sharon Carter.

Who promptly tried and failed to hide an amused quirk of her lips as she took in the rather run-down look of their transportation.

"Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car," she called by way of greeting, her amusement poorly concealed. Steve couldn't help but grin despite being wholly serious in his answer.

"It's low profile," he answered back, nodding back toward the Bug. The corner of Sharon's lip quirked further as she circled to the trunk, popping the latch.

"Good," she said as his gear, Sam's and Bucky's were revealed, "because this stuff tends to draw a crowd." He wasn't quite sure whether to laugh or sigh with relief. She'd hinted in her message that she'd managed to collect some things that belonged to them, but he'd still been leery of getting his hopes up that she'd managed to secret away all of it.

Well, most of it…not that she'd brought along what—or rather who—he had been hoping to see most. He fought to ignore the way his gut clenched in renewed worry and disappointment that Sharon was alone.

Instead, he spared her a grateful, if sedate smile. "I owe you again." She nodded in agreement, shrugging faintly even as she glanced in at the gear she'd smuggled out of the JCTC.

"Keeping a list," she quipped back with a grin. Only to glance over to the Bug. "You know, he kinda tried to kill me," she added, nodding in Bucky's direction. Steve withheld a grimace as he glanced back toward his companions himself. Mostly. The sting of the accusation eased as she met his eye, her own dark ones clearly saying that, while wholly serious, she wasn't holding a grudge. Steve let out a sigh, a small grin of his own tugging at his lips.

"Sorry," he said, looking back to Sharon, attempting a small smile of apology. It mostly worked. "I'll put it on the list, too." Her smile deepened, a small huff that was nearly a laugh escaping. She sobered then, looking back down to the gear in the back of her car. It was enough to have Steve sobering too, sparing a glance to his shield and Sam's wings before fixing the blonde agent next to him with an assessing glance. "They're going to come looking for you," he said, knowing full well that it was a statement of the obvious. She nodded absently in easy agreement, and the way she quirked her brow at him as she met his eye once more said that clearly.

"Maybe." There was a curious glint in her eye, her tone suggesting that she had some sort of plan, but her expression was clear; she wasn't concerned. That didn't stop the newest twist of guilt that joined the knots trying to take over his gut. But he pushed it aside. He might not know Sharon the way he'd once known Peggy, but he was pretty sure he knew her well enough to know she'd been well aware of the potential consequences before choosing to throw in with him. The faintly challenging light in her eye said that clearly. So he pushed aside the impulse to apologize as his instinct was urging to do.

"Thank you, Sharon," he said simply and sincerely instead. She nodded once in acceptance of his thanks, her gaze turning thoughtful, even considering, as she fought and failed to restrain her smile.

And then she was stepping forward, leaning up to press her lips to his as her hand rose to rest over base of his skull, brushing lightly through his hair. Her lips were soft but firm against his; it was nice, but that was all. Not like…

As she pulled away, a sheepish grin appeared on her face, her cheeks pinking slightly. Steve inhaled deeply, an awkward grin of his own rising to his face as he struggled for what to say in response to her play. The warmth beginning to rise up the back of his neck, making its way slowly toward his own face, was not helping in the slightest. After a moment she cleared her throat lightly, glancing up at Steve.

"That was—" she hesitated, how she felt about the kiss hard to discern.

"Late?" he offered when she didn't immediately continue.

"Weird," she finished softly as she settled back on her heels, easing away from him, her expression turning apologetic, "sorry." Steve couldn't help the faint chuckle that escaped him. Or the feeling of relief at her admission.

"It's, umm—it's okay," he offered politely, though it definitely didn't dispel the awkwardness. Still, it was apparently the right response, as she seemed to relax, a trace of kindred relief surfacing in her eyes. She shot him an appreciative look for the attempt before the trace of a grin shifted into a far more reassuring and even impish smile as she shrugged.

"It was worth a try, though." Steve grinned back, another chuckle working its way up from his chest at her casual quip. He supposed that was fair. They had circled for a while. Really, it was probably a good thing to  _know_  that there was really nothing—

"Having fun?"

And Steve froze at the familiar, dryly amused voice that piped up behind him.

No…it couldn't be…she should be long gone, going safely to ground, finding a way back to Nina…

Slowly, he glanced over his left shoulder, unable to properly draw breath, his chest feeling inexplicably tight.

There, leaning a hip casually against Sharon's car, her arms crossed loosely over her ribs, was Nadine.

All at once a tension Steve had been working very hard to ignore eased, a weight lifting from his shoulders at the sight of Nadine's wry grin and questioning brow as she looked between him and Sharon.

And his heart began to pound at the odd, sharp glint in her pale grey eyes that was quickly hidden away.

All at once a riot of emotions was suddenly let loose in his chest.

Chief among them relief and an overwhelming joy that she was here…and something he wasn't sure he was quite ready to define yet.

Nadine hadn't run. She hadn't been recaptured.

She was safe.

And she was here.

Steve looked back to Sharon with astonishment, "you broke Nadine out?"

"Excuse me—" Sharon nearly smirked as Nadine huffed, cutting in to correct him even as the other blonde crossed her arms and eyed the Captain with narrow-eyed incredulity.

"More like I urged her to move on rather than simply re-arresting her, but sure," Sharon said with a wry grin of her own.

"And I am perfectly capable of breaking myself out, thank you. I was well on my way to freedom before I got distracted by Barnes, there," Nadine added, jerking a nod over toward Bucky where he sat in the Bug with Sam. Steve spared his two friends a glance, nearly frowning with exasperation at the avid way they were watching the apparently unfolding drama. Sharon's smirk grew smug and she exchanged a conspiratorial glance with the other blonde, who grinned wickedly back.

"She is," Sharon agreed lightly, leaning her own hip against the car as Nadine circled around Steve to stand next to her. "Terrible how the JCTTF underestimated The Ghost. Not only did she break out and even help try to subdue the Winter Soldier—out-fighting our people handily too, I might add—but she managed to slip away before anyone could manage to take her back into custody, even managing to make it out with all of her gear and yours." A sly grin crossed Nadine's face as she snorted softly in amusement. Steve eyed the two of them—he couldn't stop looking at Nadine, his stomach flipping as she evenly met his gaze—practically reeling at the sudden turn of events. Part of him wasn't quite sure this was actually happening, to be honest…

"You two've got this all figured out, haven't you," he finally said, his head shaking in disbelief of its own accord. Nadine and Sharon both smiled, the looks eerily similar in their smug satisfaction. Nadine shrugged.

"Of course," she brushed off with an absent gesture. He glanced to Sharon, a concerned look surfacing beneath a questioning one. Slipping away with their gear was one thing, after all…but facilitating the escape of The Ghost?

"And the JCTTF is going to buy that?" Sharon shrugged once more, her eyes glinting with amusement as she glanced conspiratorially to Nadine again.

"Some of the cameras may have taken a little longer to come back online in the area of the building where Ross had your gear stored, while the ones in the parking garage seem to have come back on just in time to catch The Ghost driving away in a stolen car. Shame how the power failure affected the network so inconsistently." Sharon turned back to Nadine, whose eyes flashed impishly.

"It really is," Nadine agreed mildly, "especially when they find the car abandoned, scrubbed and likely stripped a couple days from now in a more unsavoury part of town." Sharon chuckled. Nadine glanced to the Volkswagen then, her grey eyes growing momentarily guarded. Not that she was entirely able to hide the vulnerable flicker in them before he noticed it. Concern was suddenly prickling at Steve as he realized what had caught her attention.

Bucky.

Before he could help himself, Steve was taking a step toward Nadine, his hand twitching at his side. But before he could reach out to her or even open his mouth, the guarded expression was gone and she was looking back to him.

She raised a skeptical brow at Steve. "A Beetle?" He smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Like I was saying to Sharon, we were going for inconspicuous. And I wasn't exactly expecting a fourth passenger." She bit back a snicker as he answered her unspoken comment on its size, her eyes glinting with amusement as she reached past Sharon to grasp her own gear where it was tucked neatly behind Sam's wings. Absently Steve wondered why he hadn't noticed it until that moment. Then again, the black case that held her rifle and the dark duffle that held her pale grey gear had somewhat blended into the shadows of the trunk.

He didn't quite realize he was staring after her as she turned and headed for the Beetle until a soft sound interrupted his thoughts. Blinking—and pointedly ignoring the warmth that was once again threatening to seep onto his face—he looked back to Sharon. It took a surprising amount of effort not to swallow thickly at the way her lips quirked in poorly hidden amusement. Especially after what she said next.

"You really do have it bad," she said, almost fondly, and just loud enough for him and only him to hear. Inhaling slowly, he tried to brush it off, to deny it even, fixing her with as unconcerned and casual a look as he could.

But no words came.

Only to glance over to Nadine again before he could help himself just in time to see her reach the Beetle.

"Hey," Nadine was saying as she smacked the windshield with the flat of her palm, "do you want your bird costume or not?" Even though his response was heavily muffled by distance and the car, Sam's indignant, "C'mon! Seriously, Ryker?" was easily audible. Steve bit back a laugh even if he couldn't quite manage to hide his smile. A smile that widened at Nadine's bemused laugh as she unlatched and popped the hood on the front of the old Beetle, hiding Sam and his glower from sight.

"She cares for you a great deal, you know." Steve glanced to Sharon, only barely able to keep his surprise from his face. He'd been fairly certain…but to hear someone else say it?

Someone who wasn't Nat?

The JCTTF Agent watched him with a knowing look on her face. What could he say to that? His heart thrummed at the ideas for how to answer flying through his mind. He should probably deny it…only to find he didn't really want to anymore, the idea of denying his own growing feelings causing an ache to twinge deep in his chest. He'd finally started truly admitting it to himself, but could he actually admit it aloud? Could he admit to someone else that he'd grown to care for Nadine too?

Could he admit that he cared for a woman who'd spent her life hiding, running…lying? Who killed for a living? Could he admit he cared for the former assassin?

Could he admit it to the niece of the first woman he loved, the woman whose funeral he'd just attended? Could he admit it to the woman who'd also been his neighbour for a time, who he'd started to hope might be interested in something more than friendship at one point?

Could he admit he cared for the mother of his best friend's child…a child his friend still didn't know existed, he remembered with an ache in his chest. Could he admit he cared for a woman his best friend might care for, who might have a prior claim on her affections?

Could he admit he was falling in love with the blonde assassin?

Apparently he didn't have to. A small, satisfied almost-smile took over Sharon's features, her eyes softening; she'd seen as much in his face.

"Why haven't you made a move," she asked gently, without a trace of censure. Steve let out a loaded sigh. Answering that question was almost as difficult as admitting aloud that he cared for Nadine as much as he did. Again, he didn't even need to vocalize his answer, Sharon nodding slowly as she studied his reaction.

And the way he once again looked toward the Beetle.

Where Nadine was talking quietly with Sam in front of the Beetle's open trunk—each no doubt asking about how the other was after everything that happened at the JCTC—and Bucky was still seated in the back seat, hidden from sight by the trunk lid.

"Because of her past with Barnes," she supplied. Unconsciously Steve nodded, only to stiffen after a moment as it sank in what she'd implied she knew…what had Nadine told her? Had she guessed? But Sharon ignored him, plowing on, "and of yours with Peggy?" He swallowed thickly, his surprise that she even knew about Bucky and Nadine's shared past falling by the wayside as he looked to Sharon with a frown. Nerves suddenly tremored deep in his gut at the tender subject. She sighed, nodding again to herself as the pieces clicked into place.

"Aunt Peggy would be okay with you moving on, you know." She fixed him with an unreadable, yet considering look as she spoke. "She'd want you to be happy. She wanted you to be happy."

"You talked about me?" he asked, attempting a confidence that didn't quite manage to hide his uncertainty. She smiled fondly.

"A little," she admitted with a faintly teasing tone before the sincerity returned, "and I know you still love Peggy, but you haven't been in love with her for a long time, I think. You know it's in the past, and part of you has already accepted that. Besides, she's—she's gone now. You can't hold on to her, or what you could have been, forever." Her gaze turned shrewd, and Steve found it hard to hold. It was far easier to step back, exchanging a small—if somewhat strained—smile with Sam as the former paratrooper ducked between them to grab his own gear.

But he couldn't quite bring himself to meet Nadine's eye…not with his feelings so close to the surface thanks to Sharon's unexpected heart-to-heart. He was already so afraid that he'd overstepped back in her Workshop…then to get her arrested? The last thing he wanted was to spook her any further…

Not that he wasn't suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was as she leaned in to retrieve the bag holding Bucky's gear, nearly brushing against him. Or of the sensation of her gaze pausing on him as she turned…his stomach flipped happily.

It was only as Sam and Nadine returned to the Bug, arms laden with Sam and Bucky's gear, that Sharon continued, her train of thought clearly unbroken despite the forced pause.

"But I think you already know that," she said thoughtfully, "I think you've already accepted it. I think you know she'd want you to live your life. To go after a chance at happiness. To have a future. Love, family even? She might even have said it to you outright," she added pointedly, her sly grin making it obvious she wasn't entirely guessing. Steve shifted, unsettled; she wasn't wrong…Peggy had indeed hinted as much. A couple times.

"Now it's just her past with Barnes that's holding you back." She said it gently if a little leadingly, but Steve couldn't help but tense anyway. "But I can't help but think that's just as much an excuse as Aunt Peggy is." Steve sighed heavily, his gut twisting uncomfortably at the sudden realization that she just might be right.

"I'm not cut out for that type of life, Sharon. I'm not made to 'settle down', to just hang up my shield and retire." The idea that maybe he wasn't  _meant_  to either stayed firmly locked behind his teeth.  _That_  wasn't a discussion he wanted to get into in the least; this one was already hard enough. Sharon actually laughed, causing his frown to deepen.

"And you think she is? The woman behind the Ghost? Who claims to be retired herself? I think you two are more suited than you're willing to admit." She reached out, laying a hand on his arm, "and there's no one way to settle down and build a future with someone. It doesn't have to mean hanging up your shield. You just need to find someone who understands that. Who might even fight alongside you." A feeling he couldn't quite bring himself to name was suddenly swelling in his chest at her observation, making it hard to draw a proper breath.

"Don't you know I'm the master of waiting too long?" he countered weakly. Sharon smiled indulgently, patting him lightly on the shoulder in sympathy.

"You are that."

"Thanks," he said dryly, "I wasn't exactly looking for agreement." She chuckled quietly before sobering.

"Maybe you should put that title aside?" she suggested lightly, raising a brow in challenge. Steve sighed as he glanced toward Nadine once more, something in his chest loosening at the faintly curious way she was glancing back at him and Sharon as she straightened from depositing Bucky's gear into the Beetle's trunk.

And his heart started to thud just a little faster as her pale grey eyes met his ocean-blue.

When he finally replied, it was said mostly to himself.

"Maybe."


	110. Chapter 35

~~~~**Berlin, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

"So you managed to make it out alright." Nadine glanced up at the sound of Sam's voice, sparing the former paratrooper a wry grin and a raised brow as she slid her rifle case into the trunk of the Beetle after the duffle holding her gear. He huffed out a laugh. "Obviously," he corrected almost immediately. Nadine couldn't help but snicker.

"Obviously," she repeated, no hiding the teasing in her own voice. Sam smiled. Only for his features to grow serious.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Nadine blinked, a faint frown creasing her brow. "I'm fine, why?"

Sam shrugged, unconsciously nodding toward the Beetle next to them.

Where Barnes still sat.

"You know," he continued, "after what happened at the JCTC?" Realization dawned, and Nadine inhaled slowly. "I saw the aftermath, Ryker," Sam said, his expression grim as he fixed her with a blatantly assessing look, "and I saw you in the cafeteria and I heard what went down; you went through a window." Nadine met his eye, her lip quirking.

"I did. And?"

"Damn…and you're okay?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" she replied wryly, not that it wholly detracted from her sincerity as she reassured her friend. She was admittedly still rather sore from the whole episode, but that wasn't important. She wasn't interested in making any of them worry about her. "I'm fine. Thanks in part to Sharon, believe it or not."

With a small smile, Nadine turned, heading back for Sharon's car. Sam hesitated, vaguely startled, for a moment before falling into step beside her.

"Seriously? That's it?" Nadine was nearly tempted to roll her eyes in exasperation at his incredulity. She shrugged.

"I might have to kick Barnes' ass for throwing me through said window, but otherwise? I'm fine, Wilson."

Sam grinned, his serious expression easing with relief. Nadine shook her head fondly, looking away from the former paratrooper and back to the other car and the pair standing next to the open trunk.

She was only barely able to keep herself from faltering.

Nadine hadn't been able to keep herself from sagging with relief when she'd caught sight of Steve, Sam and Barnes within the vintage Beetle as it approached the rendezvous site. She'd thought she'd been prepared for a strong wave of relief at seeing them all, safe and whole. She hadn't. Not for how powerful it had been. Especially when Steve ducked out of the small car.

Steve.

Steve she had studiously avoided thinking about as much as possible during her introspection while waiting for Sharon. She had already spent more than enough time dwelling on their relationship and her problematic yet undeniably growing feelings for the man. There was nothing new, no new angles to consider. So there had been no point in torturing herself further. Reconciling what had happened in regard to Barnes—that she hadn't been able to stop his capture or her own despite being more than capable, how fighting him again had threatened a nearly deadly flashback at precisely the wrong time, and so on—had been the priority. Everything else had been compartmentalized away as her training and the situation had demanded. The way it should have been all along, really.

Not that she'd been entirely successful in burying away the fear that something had happened to the Captain; no matter what she did, no matter what mental tricks she'd employed, her sister's word from their run through the JCTC hadn't stopped echoing in her ears.

_No one's seen Steve since he raced down to head off Barnes_.

It had been almost as bad as her almost consuming fear for Nina and later Natasha when they had been taken hostage during the first the Strucker then the Ultron fiasco.

So the instant she'd seen him stepping out of the almost comically small car?

She hadn't been able to breathe, leaning heavily against the concrete column she'd been positioned behind to get the jump on any potential trap as she struggled to maintain her composure.

But she'd fought to shake off her lingering worry and her relief both.

Only for something else altogether to rise up to take its place.

The resurgence of the troublesome stab of jealousy when Sharon had leaned in to kiss Steve had most certainly not been welcome. Neither had the suddenly overwhelming urge to back the younger woman off…forcefully if necessary…or the small twist of betrayal that Sharon had done it at all after their heartfelt conversation barely an hour before.

And that wasn't even counting the ache in her gut as she'd tried to forcefully remind herself that she had no real claim on Steve…or that she shouldn't want one; unfortunately her feelings were no longer nearly so obliging.

Nor were her skills at reading people, apparently. Her chest tightened with uncertainty as she'd watched Steve and Sharon talk out of the corner of her eye during her own chat with Sam. She just couldn't figure out how he'd felt about that damned kiss with the JCTTF agent. Receptive? Uncomfortable? Embarrassed? There had been a slight tension across his shoulders that had eased as he continued to speak with Sharon only to resume as she said…something. Something that had him furtively sparing glances in her and Sam's direction. Something that left what she could decipher from his profile alone nearly unreadable.

And then there had been the way he'd looked at her when she'd spoken up to reveal her presence after that bloody kiss…another one of his looks that she couldn't quite read, but that left her heart pounding and her stomach fluttering distractingly.

A look that had left part of her certain that she was seeing a mirror to her own feelings of overwhelming worry and relief reflected back at her. One that had Sharon's certainty, her sister's conviction and her own traitorously hopeful suspicions that Steve returned her feelings nudging smugly in the back of her mind.

But as she and Sam reached the car, taking turns to step between Steve and Sharon to grab out more of the gear they'd stashed in the trunk, he couldn't meet her eye.

And all at once the hopeful knotting in her stomach turned uneasy.

Why did emotions have to be so damn complicated…

Frustrated with herself at the realization that she was letting her feelings threaten to derail her usually meticulous control yet again, she shoved them away.

Only for another almost as distracting train of thought to rise up in its place as Sam once more fell into step beside her.

The image of Sam helping a shaky looking Nat up from a table back at the JCTC just as Nadine herself had been regaining consciousness.

"Natasha's okay?" she asked softly as they approached the Beetle again. She saw Sam spare her a glance out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah," he said sedately after a moment, eyes almost unseeing as he waited for her to tuck Barnes' bag into the Beetle's trunk. "She's good. A bit shaken, I think, but she was alright when I left her." A small, relieved sigh escaped past Nadine's lips, her shoulders slumping with it.

"Good," she breathed, only to frown as another recollection suddenly struck her. A detail that she'd nearly forgotten about. Someone else had been there, someone she hadn't recognized…but wondered if she should've.

"There was a girl, there." Sam faltered next to her, pausing in his move to deposit his wings in the trunk to look up at her, "with you and Nat." Nadine levelled him with an unreadable look as she recognized his hesitation. And tilted her head in consideration as his unconscious glance back to the Beetle's remaining passenger sparked a suspicion in the back of her thoughts.

"The girl from DC?" she questioned softly, unable to entirely keep her surprise from her voice. Sam started, his dark eyes going wide.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Iris. She, uh…she panicked a bit, I guess, when I didn't get back to her after Bucharest. She saw on the news that Barnes was being transported to Berlin and…well…" He didn't have to continue. Nadine nodded, understanding.

It was a reckless thing for the young DC landlady to do…but on some level, Nadine could understand the impulse.

After all, hadn't her decision to follow Steve to Bucharest been somewhat of a reckless impulse itself? To meet up with him again when she probably should be disappearing…she mentally shook her head, silently chiding herself as she did.

"Where is she now?" she asked, pointedly trying to move her thoughts from the trajectory they had once more been trying to go down. "Safe, I hope?" Sam's lip quirked.

"Safe," he confirmed, a knowing glint in his eye as he glanced once more to where they both knew Barnes still sat in the car, "much to his relief. I got her set up in a hotel just outside of Berlin." And Nadine let out a soft exhale. This was good. If Barnes did truly care for this woman the way Sam obviously seemed to think?

It was a much needed bit of good news, that was for sure. Especially for Barnes; she could easily imagine good news wasn't something he got very often.

With a small nod and a gesture for Sam to get back in the Beetle, she turned back to Steve, his body language and Sharon's indicating they were wrapping up with their own conversation. Sure enough, as Nadine approached Sharon's car to see about collecting the rest of the gear—only Steve's was left, really—Steve was grabbing up his shield and his bundled uniform.

And nearly turned right into Nadine.

Her breath caught before she could stop it as he finally met her eye. Especially at the small, tentative smile that bloomed across his handsome features. One that she couldn't help but return even as he stepped around her, intent on depositing his gear in the Beetle. It was only at the soft sound of Sharon's voice that tore her attention away from the retreating supersoldier.

"Natasha was right," Sharon murmured appreciatively. Once more mentally shaking herself back to the present, Nadine was immediately levelling the younger woman with a questioning glance. Sharon's lip quirked. "He's not a bad kisser. Could use a little practice, but not bad."

Nadine pointedly ignored the way her cheeks suddenly felt warm—and the way she was suddenly and sincerely tempted to toss the other woman into her own trunk—instead ensuring that her features remained impassive, her only response a noncommittal hum as she turned to follow Steve back to the Beetle.

Only to blink in indignation as Sharon stifled a soft snicker.

"You know you want a turn," Sharon quipped under her breath, causing Nadine's step to falter. Nadine's stomach fluttered, and she was only barely able to limit her reaction to an indifferently raised brow as she looked back to Sharon.

"You really think daring me is a good idea?" she asked blandly, ignoring the way her heart quickened at the prospect. Sharon shrugged, smiling mildly back at Nadine.

"Maybe, maybe not," Sharon said, voice still carefully low, keeping the exchange between the two of them. "Not when I know you're not going to do it." Nadine's eyes narrowed at the dismissal, her arms crossing loosely over her chest.

"Now that sounds very much like a dare. You really think such a novice bit of reverse psychology would work on me?" Sharon just smiled sweetly at Nadine's dry objection.

"No. Just making an observation," she said. "You already made it perfectly clear that you weren't going to pursue him. That there was too much baggage." Nadine didn't respond, instead assessing the younger blonde from behind a carefully blank look. Sharon levelly met her gaze right back. "Which is a pity for you, because I was right that he's interested." She sighed then, though the way she still watched Nadine made her wonder if it was a bit of theatrics, "but you did make your argument and he made his and I can see the logic against the two of you starting anything." Nadine's gut clenched; why did it hurt so much to hear someone else agree that her arguments against pursuing anything with Steve were valid… It was then that the shard of jealousy that had been needling her since the funeral was suddenly intensifying once more as Sharon glanced to Steve with a poorly hidden look of appreciation.

"I thought you weren't interested anymore." The impulsive—and indignant, if she was being honest—question was out of Nadine's mouth before she could stop it. But she carefully hid that truth behind a dryly questioning look. Sharon looked back to Nadine at the question, a brow raising. She shrugged after a moment.

"What? I wanted to see what it was like. Don't you?" It was then that her gaze grew faintly challenging, causing the shard in Nadine's chest to pulse uneasily. "And who says I'm not still interested. Maybe I want you to think I'm daring you so you won't. Would getting you to kiss him and opening that door really be in my best interest if I am?" Her expression eased to one of amusement as Nadine's eyes narrowed sharply. "You can't keep circling forever, after all," she quipped. Nadine straightened, studying the younger woman. Her instincts weren't clear. Not on this. She couldn't quite be sure if Sharon was bluffing, joking…or if she was serious.

Right at this moment, she was proving harder to read than even her sister…and somewhat exasperating in nearly the same manner as Nat was with her attempts to matchmake. Nadine bit back an irritated huff.

But before she could respond, both their attention was caught at Steve's call. He was standing a few steps away from the Beetle, watching Nadine expectantly. Forcing whatever it was between her and Sharon aside, Nadine spared Sharon a final look.

"Carter," she offered with a faint head-bob of acknowledgement. Little else needed to be said and offering more still instinctively smarted of giving away a potential advantage to Nadine. Not to mention, whatever game it was the younger woman was trying to play, Nadine didn't have the patience nor the time to try and unravel it, leaving her somewhat irritated with the younger woman.

But she truly was grateful to the younger agent for her help—her nerve in kissing Steve aside.

A simple nod was all Sharon offered back, mirroring Nadine's.

A simple nod and a small, genuine smile. Nadine nearly faltered at what she read behind the expression; somehow Sharon knew how she felt even if Nadine's background made it hard to properly convey that kind of gratitude.

Her grin turning faintly wry, Sharon turned away, closing the trunk of her car.

It was a dismissal if Nadine ever saw one. Swallowing a huff, she followed Steve, coming up behind him as he shuffled things around in the trunk of the Beetle to better fit his gear.

"You're good?" he asked, sparing her a glance as he straightened. She hummed an acknowledgement, lifting his shield from where he'd leaned it against the vintage car's front bumper. He grinned, a flicker of relief crossing his face.

"You?" she asked seriously back as he bent to grab up his gear. He paused, meeting her suddenly very serious eye. He sighed, nodding sedately after a moment of thought.

"I'm good," he said, the corner of his mouth lifted in a gently reassuring grin. Though she didn't let her expression change, it did help some of the anxious, gnawing worry left over from Nat's declaration back in the JCTC finally begin to dissipate. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased, her posture sagging before she could help herself. But just as quickly, her anxiety was soon turning to annoyance, her gaze turning sharp.

"Why the hell did you go after him alone?" The murmured question came out far more abruptly than she'd intended, not that her disapproving tone entirely hid the thread of latent fear. And before she could help herself, more unguarded words were spilling out with embarrassing ease. "Do you have any idea how worried I was when Nat told me you hadn't been seen since rushing down to face him?" Steve straightened, his expression shifting from startled at her outburst to thoughtful as he looked to her. Nadine's mouth snapped shut with a nearly audible click of teeth. But she didn't allow her challenging expression to falter, silently demanding explanation.

Not that it was all that difficult to guess at his reasoning.

"Well I wasn't exactly alone," he objected with an attempt at deflection, "I had Sam." Nadine said nothing, her unimpressed expression sustained. They both knew that for all that Sam was one of the best wingmen one could have in a fight—no pun intended—he was no match for the Winter Soldier. After a moment Steve's broad shoulders sagged, a sigh escaping as he finally settled on how he wanted to explain. "Because I was the best chance at stopping him," only for his conviction to falter as he glanced toward his friend where he sat, obscured by the open hood of the Beetle. When he finally continued, his voice dropped so low she could barely hear him over the ambient sounds of the thoroughfare above their heads, "it was a near thing, Nadine." He met her eye again, his expression grave. But he couldn't quite hold it, looking down to his bundled uniform. Inhaling deeply, he finally placed it in among the rest of the gear in the Beetle's trunk.

Nadine sighed, her annoyance at his reckless, headlong rush to engage the Winter Soldier fading to a weary ache. One laced with relief that they'd all made it out, little worse for wear. Not to mention she hated seeing him so grim. She held out his shield. Automatically, he took it, but she didn't let go right away. Frowning, he met her eye once again.

"Well, it's a good thing you did manage it," she said, her lip quirking slightly before she could stop it. He looked up to her, his grave expression startled from his face at the mildly teasing tone even as she surrendered her hold on the shield. "Or it would've been up to me to take him out." He huffed out a small laugh at her dry tone, though the look in his eye made it clear he knew she was wholly serious and that he'd heard plainly what she hadn't said; that the idea of it coming to that didn't sit well with her…for obvious reasons.

And a couple not so obvious ones…

Nodding, the small, genuine smile that somehow always managed to send a wave of warmth spreading through her chest returning, Steve looked down to the shield in his hands before turning to slide it into the trunk with the rest of the gear.

It was then, as he settled his shield on top of the rest of the gear, absently checking that Sam's wings were secure next to it, that a reckless idea of her own took hold. An urge planted that she knew rationally she should be ignoring. An impulse she knew she should fervently squash…but she couldn't. Not when the opportunity was presented so neatly.

And before she could let her better sense restrain her, her fingers were brushing Steve's arm and, as he straightened, his expression faintly questioning as he turned to face her, she stepped towards him…

…and pressed her lips to his.

Contentment like she'd never felt bloomed as her pulse raced, warmth flooding through her body as he kissed her back tentatively, gently at first only to gain confidence, one hand rising to cup her face as the other curled around her waist.

God, he felt  _safe_.

He felt like home.

And then it was over and she was pulling away, fixing an unaffected look on her face, her hands falling from her grip on his biceps.

"What was that for?" he asked, a faint huskiness to his voice. She shrugged, ignoring the pleased thrum in her chest and the involuntary, smug pleasure at hearing the effect of her kiss in his voice.

"Wanted to see what all the fuss was about," she joked lightly. The corner of his lip quirked.

"That's all?" Her breath caught and she couldn't quite seem to find the words to answer. A pleased, wondering glint appeared in his eye and before she could help it, her cheeks began to warm.

And he leaned in to lay a quick, chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth before closing the Beetle's hood and circling the car.

Inhaling deeply in a bid to regain control over her normally meticulous composure, Nadine straightened, trying but not quite managing to keep a small, pleased smile of her own from her face.

Though the smile was quickly overtaken with an expression of exasperation at the smug look Sharon shot her right as she disappeared into her own car. Nadine huffed.

Well played, Sharon Carter…

Restraining the sudden juvenile urge to roll her eyes as the dark sedan purred to life and pulled away with her temporary companion inside, Nadine turned her attention back to her current companions.

"So what's the plan," she asked as she followed Steve around the front of the car, interrupting what appeared to be a silent battle of wills between Barnes inside the car and Sam leaning with an arm draped over the open passenger door that had an exasperated expression flickering across Steve's face as he opened the driver's side door.

"We need to find somewhere to hole up for a bit," Steve said, falling into his role as their little group's leader without hesitation, "but first we need to get moving." He glanced solemnly to Nadine, then, "we'll fill you in on the way." Nadine frowned, glancing between the three men. There was a gravity to the three of them that most definitely didn't bode well.

"What's happened," she prompted, shoving aside the unease suddenly running riot in the pit of her stomach.

"The doctor who activated my programming," Nadine faltered at the voice that answered…a voice she very nearly didn't recognize…one she hadn't heard in over eighteen years, "he wanted information only I had." Her attention snapped to Barnes, only half-hearing him.

He'd slid forward from the backseat of the Beetle so that he stood half in, half out of the car, one foot braced on the pavement and one arm on the roof. After a long moment of staring at his loosely fisted hand—his flesh and bone one, she noted absently, her chest feeling tight at the way he seemed nearly to be hiding the other one from sight inside the Beetle—he looked up, his steel-blue gaze flicking to each of them in turn before finally, almost reluctantly settling on Nadine. Only to frown, shifting uneasily under her scrutiny.

Nadine was too unsettled to do much more than stare at him in something that distantly felt like bewilderment. She'd barely even heard what he'd said.

Barnes eyed her askance for a moment before finally speaking up once more. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Nadine started, her cheeks warming as she abruptly came back to herself. At the realization that she was actually blushing, she only blushed harder, self-conscious and irritated that it had happened in the first place.

But truthfully? Hearing him speak? Seeing him acting so…normal? It was deeply unsettling. The only real interactions she'd ever had with the man had been while he had been trapped by his programming. So this? It threw her off balance, just as seeing him for the first time after so many years back in Bucharest had. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Steve grinning at her with amusement before his curiosity—and concern—got the better of him. Before she could help herself, she was leaning into him, his solid presence next to her and his hand on the small of her back both reassuring and grounding. As she forced the unsettled feeling aside, willing her cheeks to cool, she cleared her throat, pointedly ignoring the fact that she'd been blushing at all.

"I—I've just never heard you speak before," she dismissed with affected indifference…something the others all politely pretended to buy, she was sure. "Not really. One word doesn't really count." Both Steve and Barnes looked startled while Sam just looked bewildered, clearly lost as he looked between his three companions. A low sound had Nadine's eyes snapping back to Barnes, surprise flickering across her face as she realized the dark-haired man was chuckling, a conceding grin appearing on his face.

"Yeah, I suppose that's right, isn't it," his features turned apologetic, "sorry about that. I wasn't exactly, uh, equipped for conversation at the time." She shook her head, absently waving it off.

"There wasn't much opportunity, either," she quipped back with a half-hearted smile. If any of them noticed the waver to her voice, they were all gracious enough not to react to it. Clearing her throat, Nadine forced herself back to the issue at hand.

Without any of them saying as much, it sounded like the doctor wasn't quite done causing chaos yet.

Wonderful…

She bit back an aggravated sigh.

"Well, figure out who's sitting where," she said then, unsettled emotions once more firmly in hand and her voice once more confident and collected as she stepped forward to slip around Steve to stand between him and the driver's seat. It took far more effort than she was willing to admit not to be distracted by how close they were suddenly standing; she was nearly in his arms…especially when his hand fell once more to her waist. "I'm driving."

"Why you?" Steve was the first to regain his voice after her declaration. Nadine glanced up to him, raising a brow as a smug grin spread across her face.

"Because I know where we're going," she brushed off. Before he could react further, she was settling herself in the driver's seat, racking it forward to adjust for her shorter frame; not everyone was as tall as the Captain. She looked over as Sam ducked down to peer at her past Barnes' torso through the open passenger door.

"And where might that be?" She smiled brightly over at him, starting the car as she did. They all took the hint, Barnes scowling faintly at a vaguely entreating look from Steve as he dropped back into the car and scooted over to sit behind Nadine, allowing a suddenly grumbling Sam to wedge himself into the back seat next to him. It was almost comical, really, and Nadine was sorely tempted to chuckle. Especially when the two men seemed determined to keep as much space between each other as possible.

She didn't answer Sam's question until Steve was safely ensconced in the passenger seat and they were pulling away from beneath the overpass. "Because I have somewhere we can lay low," she explained. "A place in Dresden. Not far from the airport."

"Wait, another one?" Sam piped up incredulously from behind Steve, "How many safehouses do you have?" Nadine truly did roll her eyes at that.

"Boltholes," she corrected absently, levelling first Sam then Steve with a nearly chiding expression, "but safehouse works too, I suppose. And one of these days you boys are going to remember that I'm a lot more prepared than you all ever seem to be…"

She couldn't help but chuckle at the way Sam huffed indignantly.


	111. Chapter 36

**Germany**

**Spring 2016**

It became painfully clear painfully quickly that whatever was going on was worse than Nadine had hoped as her three companions efficiently broke down what had happened back at the JCTC as well as the situation they all now found themselves in. A situation that involved more Winter Soldiers and a doctor seemingly hell-bent on finding them whilst giving no indication what he intended to use them for.

As if things couldn't get any worse.

Nadine swore under her breath, a liberal mix of curses in Russian, German and half a dozen other languages spilling free before she could stop them.

"Yeah," Barnes muttered grimly from the backseat, "that sounds about right." She met Barnes' eye in the rearview mirror. The first time since under the overpass. Mercifully, she didn't freeze, this time…that had been embarrassing.

It was still unsettling, though, to finally be having an actual conversation with the man after all this time. After everything that had happened between them all those years ago. She'd been hard pressed not to stare at him in the rearview mirror, carefully avoiding so much as looking at him in effort to avoid the impulse outright.

She couldn't help but instinctively pick out evidence that he was no longer the blank, mindless operative HYDRA had made him into …

…and features he shared with her daughter… _his_  daughter…

"Where are they being kept?" she asked grimly, forcing herself back on track, compartmentalizing her thoughts of Nina away as she'd used to do automatically whenever a mission had called.

She couldn't afford to think about Nina right now.

Barnes hesitated, his jaw tensing before forcing out his answer.

"Siberia."

"Great," she muttered dryly. "I always wanted to go back to Siberia…" Barnes' lip tugged before he could help himself. Nadine's heart clenched at the familiar expression suddenly appearing on a different face than she was used to, but she pushed it firmly aside. If this was true and there really were more Winter Soldiers? That was going to have to wait.

It was too dangerous to bring up just now.

She grit her teeth in frustration at the realization.

"Tell me about it," he quipped back bitterly. She couldn't help but grin with commiseration.

"So we're off after five more Winter Soldiers," she summarized. "Should be fun." Barnes' huffed out a soft, humourless laugh.

"You'll like this, then," he added bleakly, "one of the other Winter Soldiers? The woman? I think she might have been part of the program you were in back when…well, back then." She sighed heavily at the way he hesitated…and at what he'd said.

"Well, the best did come from the Red Room," she replied softly. A heavy, uncomfortable silence descended then, not one of the Beetle's other three passengers quite knowing how to follow up Nadine's comment.

At least at first.

"And I used to think one Winter Soldier was bad enough." Almost as one, Steve and Barnes twisted to look at Sam, Nadine similarly sparing him a look in the rearview mirror. Sam glanced up at the scrutiny, abandoning his unseeing survey of the passing scenery. "What," he said, "tell me I'm wrong." Nadine and Steve exchanged a brief glance. He wasn't, really. The very idea of facing more Winter Soldiers? It left a sickening pool of dread in the pit of Nadine's stomach that she couldn't quite manage to dispel.

"Sam," Steve warned softly, but Sam just fixed Steve with a nearly exasperated look.

"C'mon, you can't say you don't know what I mean. Friend or not, you've got to admit he's a tough fight," Sam said with an unconscious nod toward Barnes, the comment pragmatic even if his tone wasn't entirely. Out of the corner of her eye, Nadine caught Steve look to Barnes. A look Barnes answered with a shrug. He couldn't disagree. None of them could. Behind Steve, Sam leaned further back into his seat, gaze growing distant once more as he turned his attention back out the window. They were still nearly an hour out from Dresden, Nadine having taken a somewhat more circuitous route than common; it couldn't hurt to take extra measures, after all.

Right at this moment, though? With tension suddenly heavy and cloying over the vintage Beetle's four already unsettled passengers?

Nadine was starting to wish she'd just taken the gamble and gone the quick, direct route.

"I mean, that first time I saw him?" Sam continued after a moment, seemingly unable to let the tense silence stretch, "intimidating as hell. Seeing him with the arm and the mask just standing after being thrown from our car like that? Definitely questioned what the hell I'd gotten myself into." Surprising herself, Nadine was forced to bite back a chuckle at the nearly awed cast to Sam's voice. Even Steve couldn't help a small grin. Intentional or not—more likely not, considering the faint, lingering hint of aggravation Nadine detected in his voice over what all had happened in DC—Sam's confession was enough to begin diffusing the tension.

"You took it all rather well, all things considered," she agreed before she could help herself despite a moment's silent fight over whether or not she should, her responding grin sympathetic even if it was faintly strained. She caught a glimpse in the mirror of Barnes frowning, uncertain of what exactly was happening. But she pressed on, unable to help the instinct that his reaction would tell her…she wasn't entirely sure what, really. She just couldn't fight the sense that it was important. That it would help her figure him—the real him—out, maybe? "He was all but a myth where I was trained; an almost perfect operative to be admired and idolized—emulated, even—just as much as feared. Then to be one day fighting him? With no warning? To realize just how true the stories about him were? About how strong, how fast, how unbeatable he was? Intimidating is too small a word."

"Well that was kind of the point," Barnes interjected softly, a small, tentative grin nevertheless tugging at his lip as he met her eye in the rearview mirror.

"Well, it worked," she quipped back, unaccountably pleased at the small huff of laughter that escaped him. "You've certainly lived up to your reputation."

"You're not too bad, yourself," Barnes replied with his own grin, though still reserved, turning wry. "You didn't make it easy on me, back then or today; that much I can remember clearly…feel it, too." Despite herself, Nadine couldn't help the smug quirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Considering that it was two on one? I'm not surprised you're still feeling it," Steve added, a playful glint in his eye. Nadine raised a skeptical brow at him, refusing to let on how her pulse was suddenly threatening to race at the way he was looking at her.

"Careful, Captain," she retorted with affected irritability, "or I'll be giving you a few aches of your own when we get where we're going just for teasing." Steve chuckled.

"You sure you can manage it?" he baited. Nadine rolled her eyes, scoffing lightly.

"I'd have had you in Prague if Hawkeye hadn't tazed me," she asserted dismissively, habitually falling back on the banter from their work-outs before sparing him a wicked smirk. "And don't forget, I regularly get you when we spar. You're not so unbeatable as you seem to think, Rogers."

"I can vouch for that," Barnes added then, startling a barely restrained huff of laughter from Nadine and a snort from Sam. The expression on Steve's face as he glanced to his oldest friend was a peculiar mix of affront and delight.

"Hey," Steve cautioned, the effect somewhat hampered by the grin that was winning out over his frown, "easy there, Buck. I still managed to take you out when I needed to."

"My helicopter fell into the river," Barnes objected, his brow furrowing, "I don't think that was you."

"And who grounded your chopper?" Steve broke in with a laugh, earning a disgruntled scoff from his friend.

"I'm not sure that counts," Barnes said, nose wrinkling faintly as he eyed Steve warily. "I kinda helped on that one."

"And I managed in DC, too," Steve continued despite the interruption, a hint of reserve suddenly threading his voice despite his teasing grin, "so you're not completely 'unbeatable,' either." Nadine spared him a glance, sensing that Steve wasn't entirely sure how Barnes would react to mention of what happened in DC. She knew Steve still carried a great deal of guilt over everything that had gone down during those hectic few days. And judging by the shadows that flickered in Barnes' eyes? The feeling was mutual. But the corner of his lip tugged, and Barnes evenly met Steve's gaze.

"Made you work for it, though, didn't I?" Though his voice was faintly hollow, there was a hesitant smirk on the former HYDRA operative's face that had the concern suddenly knotting in Nadine's chest easing, "even if it wasn't intentional."

And her breath caught. In that moment, despite the haunted shadows still lingering behind his eyes, Nadine saw clearly the man that he used to be. The charming, good-hearted and loyal friend Steve had told her about. Unbidden, it sent a shiver up her spine, a tiny, yet potent hope taking up residence in her chest that maybe,  _maybe_ , there was a chance for Barnes to truly come back from the horrors forced upon him.

She glanced to Steve, who had been watching his friend with a curious blend of amusement and wariness. "No hard feelings?" Barnes offered then, the corner of his lip tugging as he met his best friend's eye. Nadine couldn't help but eye the pair of them in fascination. It seemed that, no matter the years and the forced animosity between them, Steve and Barnes had fallen back on each other, their friendship still somehow vital and strong despite…everything. It was honestly something she hadn't been expecting, to say the least. Not after everything that had been done to Barnes' mind. She'd been so hesitant to even allow herself to hope that the man he'd been before hadn't been irrevocably damaged, to the point where he might not even exist anymore.

So to see the hesitant hope that warred with the shadows in his eyes as he waited for Steve to answer? To think that the man Steve had known was genuinely still there? That she was seeing him,  _now_? A little worse for wear with some ground still to cover, but still James 'Bucky' Barnes again? That he had survived having his mind torn apart? It had her faltering, even physically aching in wonder.

And hope.

Steve grinned easily, shrugging.

"Naw," he agreed. "You know me, Buck. It'd take more than dropping me down an elevator shaft to get rid of me," he ribbed lightly. Barnes huffed skeptically, but there was a bleak astonishment behind the bantering sound. Nadine started, though, snapping an alarmed glance to Steve before she could help it.

An elevator shaft? Fighting over a helicopter…that crashed? Alarm was suddenly pressing hard against her throat as just  _what_  they'd been bantering about sunk in. Steve spared her what she suspected was supposed to be a reassuring smile, though the effect was hampered by a faint wince at her exasperated glare.

"I think I've got some hard feelings," Sam mumbled petulantly from the back seat, hand raising in a nevertheless cheeky gesture to break the moment. Nadine rolled her eyes as Steve once more twisted to shoot Sam a look.

"What?" Sam objected to Steve's silent admonishment. "He did throw me off a Helicarrier." Nadine could all but feel Steve's exasperation.

"If it makes you feel better," she offered dryly, "remember he threw me through a plate glass window just a few hours ago," and she could still feel it, not that she was about to admit as much even if the guys were admitting their aches. She glanced up to the rearview mirror, inadvertently catching Barnes' eye with a faint, mischievous grin. "I'm still a little bitter about that." Behind her, he winced, but the tension in his frame eased minutely regardless. Steve let out a soft laugh.

"Well, if we're sharing, he actually shot me," he added good-naturedly, though there was no mistaking the careful way he was eying his friend. "More than once. Natasha too. So you two got off easy."

"Thanks, Steve," Bucky said dryly. Nadine's grin widened at the barely perceptible roll of steel-blue eyes behind her. Next to her, Steve's frame relaxed just as Barnes' had.

Dare she say it, she was rather starting to like Barnes.

And she definitely liked the side of Steve Barnes' presence was bringing out in him. Because despite everything, despite the looming threat of more Winter Soldiers and the prospect of having to potentially fight against their friends, he seemed…lighter. There was an almost tangible relief to Steve's demeanour now that he had his oldest friend back.

This time, as the four of them lapsed into silence, it was far more companionable than it had been before.

For the most part.

As the quiet continued through every small town, village and hamlet they passed through, lingering as they slipped through roundabouts and along country lanes that changed to city streets and back again, an anxious pressure began to grow once more in Nadine's chest, echoing the aches littering her body from the abuse it had been put through back in Berlin. It didn't help that she was very aware of Barnes' presence behind her. His presence and the presence of all the things that needed to be said between them.

It was a struggle to stay silent when part of Nadine—a large part—desperately wanted to get it all out. To get it over with. To lance the wound that their torrid past left between them.

Especially with the Red Book weighing heavily in her jacket pocket.

But she fought the impulse. Rationally, Nadine knew it was not the right time in the slightest. And though both Steve and now Sam too knew pretty much all, it was still not a conversation she wanted to have in front of them. And she imagined in that Barnes would heartily agree.

No, it was a conversation that demanded the privacy of a secure location. Privacy and a sensitive touch, neither of which she felt she could provide right in that moment.

Not in a vintage Beetle winding its way through rural Germany. And certainly not as conflicted and off-balanced as she was just then. She needed to get her head back first.

But the quiet beckoned nonetheless, demanding her to fill it. And the anxious part of her that wanted to just get it over with saw only the opportunity, heedless of the fact that it was a poor one.

It was getting to the point where Nadine was severely tempted to literally bite her tongue to keep the words, the questions—the  _confessions_ —poised there from escaping.

So the instant Sam broke the silence, providing her with a much needed distraction from her chaotic thoughts, she was so grateful she could've kissed him.

"Any more word from the cavalry?" Nadine frowned at the question, glancing to Steve.

"Cavalry?" she questioned before he could answer. Steve spared her an almost apologetic grin. But it was Sam who elaborated.

"Yeah, I supposed we didn't get to that, did we," Sam said. "We've got a call in for some back-up."

Nadine frowned, glancing to Steve and then to Sam in turn, unease once again creeping up on her. She had a feeling she knew precisely who Steve and Sam had called. "Who?"

"A guy Sam knows," Steve answered sedately, "and Barton and the Twins." Nadine bit back a sigh. She'd suspected the instant Sam had mentioned it that the Twins were going to be included. It did make sense. Any concerns she suddenly had about bringing them into this mess aside, there was no doubt they would be a huge asset.

But more than that, she had been afraid he was going to say Clint. Part of her had been hoping they'd leave him out of this; he had his young family to worry about.

But she also knew if it was her? They'd have to drag her away from something this big.

It was a jarring thought. Especially since part of her was hissing in the back of her mind that she needed to turn and run.

Because if she was being honest with herself?

A part of her was genuinely considering it. It was instinct. She couldn't help it.

Because every decision she made ran the risk of coming back to threaten Nina.

And this one was riskier than most.

So yes, part of her was insisting that she should leave. That she had no responsibility to join this fight. Part of her wanted nothing more than to run back to Cambridge and gather up her daughter in her arms and whisk her away somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from all of this. Somewhere no one could hurt them.

But at the same time…

She couldn't turn her back now. Not knowing what Steve and Barnes and her friends were facing. Not knowing precisely what the danger was in risking even one of these other Winter Soldiers being set loose on the world.

Not knowing that her background left her perfectly equipped to go up against them to a degree that only Barnes could match.

Not to mention that the part of her that wanted nothing more than to keep Nina safe now very much wanted to ensure that Steve was safe too. And that involved fighting by his side. She let out a slow, shaking breath, realizing her decision had already been made before she'd even truly realized it had lain before her.

And it hit her just how much her priorities both had and hadn't changed since that day back in Prague.

Her stomach did a backflip at the strength of the conviction behind that sudden thought. That she wasn't even hesitating to sign up for the coming fight.

That it was important she join this fight.

And truthfully? She surprisingly didn't mind. Just so long as Nina—she looked sharply to Steve, hesitating just short of blurting out her sudden fear. But he seem to know exactly what she wanted to ask, levelly meeting her anxious gaze and mutely shaking his head. A sigh of relief gusted free. Nina was still safe in Cambridge.

That was all that mattered.

"Do we have an ETA from Clint?" she asked instead. Steve glanced down to his phone, calculating mentally.

"A couple hours, yet," he answered after a moment "they're flying into Frankfurt. We'll figure out where to rendezvous when they land."

Satisfied with his response, Nadine inhaled deeply, blinking hard as she used the mental tricks taught long ago to minimize the aches left over from the excitement hours earlier at the JCTC. Normally, they'd have long since diminished, but having spent most of those hours doing little but sitting in a car wasn't helping.

Only to frown as she caught a glimpse of the assessing look Steve was suddenly levelling her with. "What?"

"You are okay?" he asked softly. There was no mistaking his concern. Her frown deepened before she forced it away.

"I'm fine," she dismissed, purposefully turning her lips in a reassuring almost-grin, "just like the first time you asked." He was silent for a moment, his eyes sharp and fixed on her, the expression one she had come to recognize as him trying to put his finger on something bothering him. Only to grow doubtful as he raised a questioning brow at her.

"You were thrown through a plate glass window," he countered finally, repeating her own words back at her, his tone patently patient. "I know from experience that, Enhanced or not, that hurts." She bit back an exasperated sigh, fighting back the faint, warm flutter in her stomach at his obvious concern. Instead she shot him an indulgent look.

"I've been through plenty worse, Steve," she said with a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I can handle being a little sore." He smiled sedately back.

"But you don't have to try and pretend you're fine, either; you don't have to hide it from us. We're all in this together, now." She spared him a skeptical grin even as the fluttering warmth in her stomach grew.

At once her cheeks threatened to warm again, the kiss she'd ambushed him with and his response surging back to the forefront of her mind. Even the phantom feel of his hand on her waist threatened to distract her further.

"Neither do you," she countered. "I may not have been thrown down an elevator shaft, but I have fallen out of a building or two; that doesn't feel particularly good either, Enhanced or not." He huffed out a quiet laugh.

"I suppose you're right," he agreed softly. She spared him a smile, one that he returned.

"I really am fine," she assured him when she noticed the concerned light still lingered in his eyes. "I can handle aches and pains much worse than what I've got now. I've done it for a long time. This really isn't that bad. Not really. By the time we reach my bolthole, I'll be good as new." Reluctantly, Steve nodded, letting the matter drop even thought it was clear he didn't entirely believe her. It was a few minutes before either of them spoke again. Reaching over, Nadine brushed her fingertips across the back of his hand where it rested on his knee.

"I do appreciate it, though, Steve," Nadine said softly. "I really do."

He smiled, his hand shifting to cover hers, squeezing her fingers gently. It was far more comforting than she'd anticipated.


	112. Chapter 37

**Dresden, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

It was about as nondescript a location as they came. Honestly? Had Nadine not led them in through the back of the supposedly abandoned storefront, Steve never would've pegged it for anything but. From the outside, the two-story building looked like it hadn't been entered much less had a resident in years.

But of course, that was the intent.

Inside was another matter.

What looked like boarded and newspapered windows from the outside were actually meticulously blacked out from the inside, the customer entrance completely blocked and secured, making it quite clear that the building's purpose no longer lay in retail. While there was a thin coating of dust on most surfaces, it was obviously well upkept, with lights blinking immediately to life when Nadine flicked the breaker in the back room once she'd mollified her security system with the appropriate iris-scan and passcode.

Upstairs was no different. The same plain but clean functional tiles as the store downstairs covered the floors from one end of the common area into the small kitchenette. And presumably, back through a narrow hallway into what had once been a private office and additional storage, the space now likely redone to include at least one bedroom, a washroom and a workroom of sorts, if he knew Nadine.

Sure enough, as he, Sam and Bucky had filed in, she had been gesturing around and informing them of the general layout—confirming Steve's suspicions—even as she deposited her rifle case and duffle on the counter in the kitchenette.

"Make yourselves at home," she'd finished with a trace of a wry smile. Steve had huffed out a small laugh as Sam at once deposited his gear next to one of the pair of couches in the common area, proceeding to pace the perimeter of the room, eying the blacked out windows with a mix of curiosity and assessment. Similarly, Bucky hadn't moved from his position near the door until he'd passed a critical look around the entire space. Steve bit back a sigh, hating that such precautions had become such a crucial part of their lives.

Especially Bucky's. Even as he stepped into the room, the space evidently passing muster, the tension never quite left his frame, his metal hand unconsciously flexing as he edged toward the pair of couches.

God, the kind of life he must have been living. It left a physical ache in Steve's chest just imagining what Bucky must have been through in the last two years alone. There was no forgetting the near squalor of the defunct safehouse they had tracked him to, the air of the place musty and stale, the neglect permeating the dark room seeming to still cling to Steve's skin even hours later at the mere memory. And that paled in comparison to the horrors Steve suspected his best friend had been subjected to during his time under HYDRA's control.

Then to even contemplate what he had endured since falling off that godforsaken train all those  _decades_  before?

Even back in DC when Steve had made the decision to go after Bucky, he hadn't been naive enough to think that, underneath the programming of the Winter Soldier, the Bucky he'd known would just be waiting to be freed. He'd clung to the hope that some of his best friend had survived—he'd  _known_ , knowing how strong Bucky was that he was still in there somewhere—but he'd held no illusions that he would escape HYDRA's hold on his mind unscathed. He knew that the Bucky he'd been searching for, that he was fighting to save, would be different from the Bucky he'd failed to save in Austria.

No one could experience the torments, the crimes, that Bucky undoubtedly had seen—had been forced to  _commit_ —unchanged, without psychological scars that would never fade.

Natasha hadn't. Nadine certainly hadn't. The two sisters spies were similarly haunted by their pasts, and Steve suspected that, in many ways, they had endured many of the same horrors that Bucky had.

Horrors that were still written clearly in every wary, weary, haunted line of Bucky's body and the guarded, shadowed cast to his eyes as he subtly watched the movements of the room's other three occupants from his place in the centre of the couch facing the door. Steve bit back a sigh.

It honestly hurt that he had to admit Bucky actually looked  _better_  than the last time he'd seen him; nearly two years ago, now, back in DC. More himself. Though still long, his hair wasn't quite the tangled, careless mess it had been, and while still tired and wary, there was a vibrancy to him that, though still subdued, had been absent before. Like the spark that was  _Bucky_ , dimmed as it had been by what had been done to him, had returned in the days since DC. A liveliness and awareness he'd noticed back in Bucharest despite Bucky's act to the contrary that had been missing when Steve had gone up against the Winter Soldier in Berlin. Because there was a distinct difference. That was undeniable. And once Bucky had regained consciousness in the abandoned factory? He had inarguably been himself again, the almost indefinable quality that left Steve simply  _knowing_  the man before him was his friend, memories or not, having reasserted itself over his HYDRA programming.

It was oddly reassuring.

And to see glimpses of the man Steve remembered surface from beneath the grim, damaged former agent Bucky had become in the hours since, despite the damage HYDRA had caused?

It truly gave Steve hope that the Bucky he'd known wasn't lost forever.

His train of thought was interrupted as Bucky's mild look of disquiet furrowed into a puzzled frown. Following his friend's gaze, Steve quickly found himself wearing a matching frown.

Nadine had reappeared from the narrow hall separating the common area from the back rooms of her bolthole to lay a pale green polyester jacket on the kitchen counter next to her gear. She was currently surveying the three of them—him, Bucky and Sam—with a distantly calculating gaze as she knelt on one knee over a displaced tile on the floor, having apparently stopped in the midst of her raid of the safe hidden beneath it if the modest bundle of cash in her hand was anything to go by.

She only paused in whatever it was she was considering when she realized all three men were staring at her with varying expressions of confusion and curiosity. She bit back a sigh, a patently patient expression settling over her features.

"Dinner," she explained, growing faintly exasperated when the looks persisted, even if her eyes seemed to glint fondly for a moment, "I'm figuring out how much take-away to get." When the looks didn't relent, she huffed, resuming her raid of the safe's contents. "Honestly. I've been listening to stomachs rumbling for the last hour, boys. Not to mention  _I'm_  hungry. And with what we're going up against? I'd rather be on the top of my game. And that involves food," she waved off as she set the cash and what was likely a burner cell—perhaps even a back-up to her usual phone, Steve mused absently, given how prepared she tended to be—that she'd obviously stashed in the safe down next to her knee before closing the safe up and replacing the tile. It fit back seamlessly. Had Steve not known it was there? He'd never have known. "So I'm going to go get us some," she finished, her tone brooking no argument.

Though she didn't see it, Steve couldn't say he'd be surprised if she could all but feel the concerned glances being exchanged between him, Sam and Bucky as she stood.

"You sure that's a good idea, Nadine?" Steve asked, fully aware how concerned he sounded even as he automatically fell back onto the pragmatic tone Nat and Nina had once dubbed his 'Captain' voice. But before he could continue, Nadine broke in, shooting him a knowing look, her pale eyes glinting fondly far more noticeably this time. He fought back the urge to swallow thickly at the look.

"Well, we don't really have too many other options," she pointed out matter-of-factly as she slipped off her dark leather jacket, laying it carefully on the counter next to the much cheaper looking green one. He nearly frowned at the hesitant way her hand lingered on it, but the observation fell by the wayside as she expanded on her reasoning. "Don't forget, I've seen you and Sam pack it away and I imagine Barnes here has similar caloric needs. Food is definitely a necessity now that we're temporarily secure and you can't argue that. And there isn't any here. Which means someone has to go, and since—even if you weren't immediately recognized as Captain America or Barnes as the Winter Soldier—not one of you are exactly unassuming," she concluded with a wryly raised brow. Steve swallowed back a sigh and an inopportune chuckle, unable to find a fault in her logic as she'd laid it out.

"Fair enough; you do have a point," he admitted, not that it quite managed put his concern at ease, "but Nadine, it's just as risky for you as Buck and me. You're just as wanted as me and Bucky, and your picture's probably out there too, now." Sympathy burned in his gut at the way her features threatened to turn impassive at the reminder, her fingers pausing in their tapping over the burner phone's screen, but he pressed on. It was reality, after all, and he knew she was very much aware of it. "There's still Sam—"

"I am a little less high-profile and a bit more inconspicuous," the former paratrooper cut in helpfully, half-begrudgingly—as if he knew it was futile but felt bound to try anyway—and half with genuine concern. Nadine raised a skeptical brow, holding up the burner as her call connected.

A short conversation in German and a couple bewildered and lost expressions—save from Bucky—later, Nadine disconnected the call with a smirk. Steve fought back the urge to groan; he knew precisely what she had sought to prove. Well? She proved it, alright. What little German he knew from during the War had been of next to no help.

"And Sam doesn't know German," she said, confirming his conclusion, "in Berlin, that would've been fine, as I bet you figured out when getting your hands on that burner you guys have been using. But here? Not exactly inconspicuous in this neighbourhood," she pointed out wryly as she tugged on and zipped up the green jacket she had retrieved a few minutes before and gathering her pale hair up in a messy bun reminiscent of the ones Nina often favoured. Steve frowned, his eyes widening of their own volition as he noticed the logo. Was that for…for a dinner delivery service?

Then, carefully arranging her expression into an exasperated and faintly dismissive one more suited to a girl Nina's age, Nadine rolled her eyes, no doubt taking a great deal of internal amusement at the undeniably startled looks on her companions' faces. "And what's more inconspicuous than a college student working a delivery job picking up loads of take-away?"

Sam blinked, shaking his head in astonishment. "Okay, that's impressive. Kinda creepy, but impressive." Steve could only nod in agreement, similarly astonished and impressed nearly to speechlessness. Behind them, Bucky actually huffed in amusement. Satisfied she'd made her case, Nadine allowed her more natural expression to surface, smirking as she tucked the phone and cash into the delivery service jacket.

"Years around teenagers and a lifetime of training to be one of the best covert operatives in the world does have its benefits," she quipped dryly, hand flicking in a dismissive gesture, "as does having an Enhancement that slows my natural aging process enough that I can even think about pulling it off."

"Silver linings," Steve said with his own wry grin. Nadine grinned wickedly back.

"Something like that."

"And it actually works?" Sam asked, still sounding vaguely incredulous. Nadine's expression grew cruelly satisfied.

"It did in '08. The Cops that questioned me never even gave me a second look. They just thought I was a scared kid who happened upon the body and not the one who pulled off the hit. I mean, how could a wide-eyed schoolgirl subdue and kill a very obviously former special-forces operative," she said, adopting the very same wide-eyed, overwhelmed expression and body language that had undoubtedly had the officers looking right past her. He knew her and knew it was an act and yet Steve was still nearly convinced by it; she looked, at most, a couple years older than Nina the way she was acting in that moment. It was quite unsettling. Only for her nose to wrinkle and the act to break, much to his relief. "Of course, I can't pull off high school anymore," she dismissed, sounding almost annoyed at the fact, "but the principle's the same."

Sam swallowed thickly. "Well, damn," he muttered. Steve was rather inclined to agree, huffing out an incredulous chuckle of his own.

"Remember what I said about hiding in plain sight?" They all turned to Bucky, whose expression, though still distantly amused, had once more turned grim. He nodded toward Nadine, a trace of admiration nevertheless visible on his face, "that's what I was talking about." At once Steve sobered, the earlier conversations about the other Winter Soldiers they were intending to stop coming once more to mind. Nadine's expression similarly sobered as she met Bucky's eye, a measure of understanding passing between them. After a moment she looked back to Steve.

"All the more reason to take advantage of the down time," she said pointedly. She wasn't asking for permission. Steve sighed, shaking his head as, despite himself, a small smile began to spread across his face. Her own lips curling, Nadine brushed a hand against his arm as she passed on the way to the stairs.

Only to turn back to him as he reached out, his fingers closing lightly around her wrist. Her determined features softened as he looked down at her, unconsciously leaning into his touch as his hand skimmed up her arm.

"Be careful," he said softly. Earnestly. The corner of her lip tugged, the expression tender. His heart thumped unevenly.

"Always," she replied, her fingertips ghosting against his side.

It took a great deal of effort not to pull her into his arms right then and there, audience be damned…and judging by the way her cheeks began to pink, her breath hitching ever so slightly?

"Wait, wait. What are we supposed to do while we wait? Just sit here?"

Steve was very nearly tempted to scowl at Sam for the—admittedly timely—interruption. Biting back a frustrated sigh, Steve forced himself to step back. Much as he might hate to admit it, now wasn't exactly the best time to consider exploring just how things had shifted between him and Nadine since her unexpected but most decidedly welcome kiss back under the overpass.

Shooting Sam an exasperated look of her own, Nadine thought for a moment before circling back to the desk in the far corner of the former break room and retrieving a small package from the left drawer. With a guileless expression, she tossed it to Sam, unable to help the wicked glint that appeared in her eyes.

Sam shot her a highly unimpressed glare as he looked up from the deck of cards he'd caught. She shrugged.

"I'm sure you can think of something," she quipped blandly. "Go Fish, maybe?" Next to the door to the stairs, Steve's hand had risen to his mouth, poorly concealing his attempt not to laugh at Sam's incredulous expression. Sam narrowed his eyes at the Captain.

Smirking, obviously pleased with herself, Nadine took her leave, all but gliding past Steve and down the stairs.

But not before she paused to lay a quick kiss on Steve's cheek.

And in a blink she was gone, her cheeks faintly pink as she disappeared.

Leaving Steve standing, faintly stunned, in her wake. As the muffled sound of the door downstairs closing behind her made its way upstairs, he wasn't quite able to suppress his pleased smile. Or the way his pulse was suddenly thudding happily once more.

At least until he turned back to see Sam and Bucky both grinning shrewdly at him, Sam looking almost smug about it. Steve was immediately biting back a groan even as heat began to creep up the back of his neck. And the chiding, even challenging look he fixed on the former paratrooper did nothing to quell Sam's amusement. If anything, it only encouraged it.

Of course it did…

But, perhaps not surprisingly, it wasn't Sam who spoke up first to start the inevitable ribbing.

"So," Steve warily met his oldest friend's eye, easily catching Bucky's nearly impish, questioning look, "you and Nadya?" Only to frown, startled.

"Nadya?" Steve repeated automatically. It took him a second longer than it probably should have to realize who he meant. Bucky frowned back, shifting almost nervously in his seat as a perplexed look crossed his face.

And unease settled in once again, Steve's stomach sinking.

It had been so easy to fall back on what they had, almost forgetting…

It stung, being reminded that, despite the encouraging glimpses of his old self, Bucky was no longer the man he'd known.

That he might never be again.

"Nady—she doesn't go by Nadya anymore, does she," Bucky said, visibly uncomfortable. Steve faltered, not quite succeeding in pasting a reassuring look on his face.

"You mean Nadine?" Bucky didn't even spare a glance at Sam's cautious question, still watching Steve with a suddenly carefully veiled, though faintly unsettled expression.

"She was Nadya when I knew her," Bucky said with a shrug. But as valiantly as he tried, there was no hiding the flash of vulnerability in Bucky's eyes, or how troubled he suddenly was. Or how haunted.

Steve barely even had to spare Sam a look. With a mumbled excuse about keeping a lookout for Nadine's return, the former paratrooper was slipping from the room and down the stairs.

Leaving Steve and Bucky alone in the warmly lit former break room.

With a heavy sigh, Steve moved to settle in the centre of the couch opposite Bucky, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his hands clasping together as he considered just what to say. They really couldn't put it off any longer, much as part of Steve might like to. There were things he just had to know, though. And now that they had been afforded the perfect opportunity? Steve couldn't justify letting it pass by.

No matter how uncomfortable and upsetting it was liable to be, for both him and Bucky.

It was a long, pregnant moment before he had collected himself enough to speak.

"How bad is it," Steve asked sedately, finally looking up to Bucky. "Your…well, what they did to your head? Your memories?" Bucky sighed so heavily in response it was nearly a groan, his features tight and grim as he fought to keep his expression controlled. It left him looking pained instead. Pained and reluctant. He didn't want to admit how bad it was, which told Steve more than enough on its own. After a minute, Bucky leaned forward to mirror Steve's pose, his hands fisting tight between his knees.

"Not as bad as it was at first," he admitted, the words all but forced, "but still…disjointed a lot of the time. Some days are better than others." He met Steve's eye then, an attempt at a depreciating grin on his lips. "But I'm pretty sure everything's there again." Steve felt his lip twitch, but the weight of his friend's reality weighed too heavily. It was then that Bucky's expression grew distant, softening as a real, albeit small, smile emerged.

"Iris…Iris helped." Steve smiled for real at the change in him, a flicker of relief surfacing through the heartache he felt for his best friend. Whatever it was he'd had with this Iris woman? She'd given Bucky back a piece of himself. Even if leaving her had torn Bucky up with guilt, she'd helped him find some peace even if only for a short time, letting him begin to rebuild himself. Hope fluttered in his gut, only to sink again.

As much as he hated the very idea of pressing for Bucky to revisit the darker periods of his past…there were things he needed to know.

"So you remember your…your history with Nadine—Nadya?" As soon as the lowly-spoken question had left Steve's lips, Bucky's features fell, his shoulders sagging. Slowly, his face nearly unreadable it was suddenly so full of conflicting emotion, Bucky nodded.

"Yeah, I remember her." Steve winced at how hollow he suddenly sounded, his voice barely audible as his gaze dropped back to his hands. "I remember all of it; it's…hazy, some of it, but it's all there." His fists clenched tighter, the metal one whirring quietly, groaning in protest. Twice, he seemed about to speak before faltering. "You—she…told you? What happened…everything that happened?" Steve tried not to grimace at how much effort it appeared to take for Bucky to get the words out, dulled and reluctant as they were even with the barely perceptible relief threaded through them—relief that Steve already knew, if his sudden instinct was right. Judging by the way Bucky winced as he risked a glance to him? It wasn't wholly successful. Steve nodded, forcing his own hands to loosen their grip on each other; his fingers actually ached at the movement. For a brief moment, he considered telling Bucky the circumstances, but there was an almost panicked agitation beginning to surface in his eyes. The idea was dismissed immediately and forcefully; it wasn't the right time for that story.

His gut was already twisting into knots enough at what he felt compelled to ask next.

A question that had been haunting him ever since that day on the Helicarrier when Nadine had confessed everything about her past with Bucky.

"Did you have a choice?"

Bucky frowned as he looked up at Steve. The Captain faltered before continuing, clarifying what he meant, pushing past the unease intent on silencing him. "You and—being with her. She…she thinks she used you…but from what she's said about—about what happened? I don't…" he sighed heavily, silently berating himself for not getting to the point faster and forcing himself to stop rambling. "Were you ordered to? Or was it your own choice?" Bucky's frown eased from uncertain to withdrawn and thoughtful, his face closing off. That alone had Steve's unease deepening.

"I think it was," the dark-haired man finally responded, his voice reserved and just as hesitant as Steve's, "in a way. It's—hard—to remember, exactly. I was fighting the programming by then. I'd been out of cryo for a while; the longer I was out and awake, the more my mind seemed to recover, sort of…at least a little. It wasn't an order, not exactly. I suppose…I suppose the best way to put it is that they ordered me into the room with her where I was to do as I…wanted." His features twisted with guilt and shame as his shoulders slumped further. Steve suddenly felt sick. But…but he couldn't bring himself to stop Bucky, either. As horrified with his past as Bucky looked? There was almost a desperation to his tone that kept Steve silent, instinct telling him that Bucky needed to get this out. To confess it, as it were. Bucky sighed, his head falling to press against his clenched fists, his fingers loosening after a moment to tug at his hair. He still couldn't bring himself to look at Steve.

"But then, it wasn't exactly a—conscious choice either," he said miserably, "On some level, I—I must have wanted it, or it wouldn't have happened." His hands falling from his head, Bucky grinned wanly, the expression almost painfully bitter. But he still couldn't manage to quite look up at Steve. At that he fell silent, and as the moment stretched on, Steve began to wonder if his friend wasn't going to continue.

And part of him was beginning to hope that he wouldn't…

"But I wasn't in control, either," Bucky finally said, his voice turning tense and even angry, startling Steve. His hands fisted again, the metal one even screeching softly at how tightly his fingers had clenched. "I—it was—hell, it was instinct…I can't put it any other way. I wasn't—I wasn't concerned about her; I can't even remember properly if she, well…enjoy is definitely the wrong word. I remember, the first time—I remember her crying when it was over. I think…I think I remember hurting her, and I didn't want to; I tried to comfort her, I think, but my mind was too scrambled to do it right. I think I only made it worse…" Steve shifted uneasily, swallowing thickly against the way his stomach roiled at hearing Bucky bleakly relate what had happened. Especially as guilt of his own began to surface.

Not to mention the dread suddenly pooling in his gut as he wondered if he'd just pushed too far…if he'd crossed a line Bucky wasn't ready—or able—to cross when it came to confronting his past.

Bucky deflated then, the flash of helpless rage dimming until a tortured misery and what Steve could only describe as defeat rose to replace it.

"I was there when they ordered her to do it, Steve," he said with the air of a grave confession, sounding impossibly weary; heartsick was the word that suddenly came to mind for Steve, "And I was there when our handlers were discussing it after she refused; her supervisor assured mine that she would do it anyway. It's…fuzzy—disjointed even, like a…a skip on a record—but I remember it. She had the illusion of choice, but she really didn't have much at all." He finally looked up to Steve then, his gaze grave and far more steady than Steve had expected, his eyes hardening as a dim spark of fury lit deep within them. "You never saw that place, Steve," he said softly, almost threatening in his intensity, in his need to make Steve understand. "You don't know what those girls went through. Even if Romanoff and Nadya told you about it, I guarantee they didn't tell you all of it. I caught a  _glimpse_  when I was there, and I still can barely comprehend the kinds of things those girls, those  _children_  were expected— _forced_  to do."

Steve couldn't breathe for the weight suddenly crushing in on his chest. He knew Bucky was right. Even though Nadine and Natasha both had begun to open up about that place? He'd always known that for every scrap they let slip, there was far, far more they were holding back. Dismay and heartache for what they had endured—for every unspeakable thing that had happened in that God-forsaken place—flooded through him…followed closely by a shame he knew he'd never be rid of…

To think that, even for the short time he'd believed it, that he'd thought Nadine complicit in what had happened. That he'd  _accused_  her of as much.

When she had been every bit as much of a victim as Bucky had been.

For what felt like the millionth time, he silently cursed himself for the way he had acted that day on the Quinjet, the way he'd leapt to the most awful conclusion he could, refusing to see the truth as it had stood right before his eyes…

And Bucky…he could only imagine the horror he must have felt…trapped inside his own mind as he was forced to go against every principle he'd ever held sacred…not just where Nadine was concerned, but in every horrific act HYDRA had forced upon him; the killing, the torture…to stand by and do nothing…to become the very thing he'd fought to stop…

Hell, he could see echoes of it in the tension settling across Bucky's shoulders and the agitation visible in the tightness of his jaw, his minutely thinned lips.

In that moment, Steve wanted nothing more than to comfort his friend, to build him back up the way Bucky always had for him when he'd been beat down. It was almost painful, how badly he needed to at least try and help.

But he didn't know how.

Not seeing the glimpse he saw now of just how potent Bucky's feelings of self-loathing and shame were over this one act alone, how deeply it and every other nightmarish memory consumed him. How it threatened to tear him apart all over again.

What could he possibly hope to say that would even begin to make it better?

"So you…" he faltered, unsure how to phrase his question, "were you aware? Even…even a little when you were…the Winter Soldier?" Bucky went very still, the guilt suffusing his features faltering as he once more grew thoughtful. Not that it exactly diminished, either.

"I…in a way…maybe? It's…it's hard to describe…" he finally said, struggling to find a way to explain it. "The longer I was out of cryofreeze, the more resilient my mind was, I suppose; I was better able to…to separate myself from my programming, I suppose, and…and to fight it." It was then, despite everything Steve had forced him—was forcing him to relive, that a small smile broke out on Bucky's face. It startled Steve so profoundly that he straightened. If anything, Bucky's expression had grown almost…fond. "It's why you were able to get through to me as much as you did in Washington," he said, sounding almost relieved to Steve, baffling as it was to realize, "and how Nadya could almost get through to me back then. Both times, I'd been out long enough that my mind was beginning to, I don't know, come close to overpowering the programming. It just needed a final push. Like you gave me on the Helicarrier…like she did when I caught her running."

Steve shifted, something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy squirming in his chest at the way Bucky was talking about Nadine. He  _knew_  how much Bucky cared for his girl from DC. He could  _see_  how much he loved her…but…

Just as he'd needed to know about what had happened all those years before from Bucky as he'd heard it from Nadine, he had the sudden need to hear him say it.

"You care about her," Steve forced out before he lost his nerve, "don't you."

Bucky straightened, his brow furrowing with confusion. "I…what?" Steve inhaled deeply, all at once feeling foolish and jealous and any number of other conflicting emotions.

"Nadine. Do you…Buck, did you…grow to care for her?" Bucky sighed heavily. And Steve was suddenly uncertain he wanted to hear his answer.

Only for a weak smirk to curl Bucky's lip as he looked pointedly to Steve.

"You're asking because you  _like_  her," he asked with a faint note of astonishment. Steve was taken aback, uncertain in a way he rarely was when it came to reading Bucky. Was…was that a deflection? He shifted nervously, leaning forward once more, forearms returning to his knees, hands once again clasping tight.

"Does…does that bother you?" he asked, affecting his usual confident manner even though he felt anything but just then. Heck, he felt nearly like the skinny, bumbling boy he'd been back in what felt like another life all over again.

"Does it…wait, are you asking for my…my okay?" Bucky blurted out, faintly bewildered. Steve shrugged, the back of his neck warming with embarrassment. Bucky made a small huffing sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Well…not exactly," Steve countered. Only to falter at the look Bucky fixed him with; that Bucky didn't buy it was clear. "Okay, for a while, I thought I needed to, maybe—but now?"

"Wait, you haven't made a move because of…of me? Because of what happened all those years ago?" Bucky clarified, this time clearly incredulous. Steve was severely tempted to fidget. Now it seemed foolish, but before? Before he'd found Bucky again?

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, sobering as he recalled precisely why he'd held back despite his steadily growing feelings for the blonde assassin…there was still so much Bucky didn't know…

But he sighed then, forcibly reminding himself that there were things that weren't his to share. He looked up to Bucky, taking in his friend's questioning look, "I mean…you two do have a past, Buck. Until I found out about your Iris? I couldn't know if there was something…something  _more_  there for you. I didn't want to step on that." Bucky sobered.

"I…yeah, I suppose you do have a point." He slumped back into the couch then, brow furrowing faintly, gaze distant.

It felt like an age before he finally got his thoughts together enough to finally answer Steve's question. Steve's heart nearly hammered with anticipation. Even knowing what his friend was likely to say.

"In another life? Maybe," Bucky admitted with a shrug, "I don't know if what I felt for her would've ever led to a real future together. Not that I don't…care, I suppose. In a way, I suppose I do. Just not… _that_  way." He hesitated, frowning, visibly unsatisfied at how he was explaining himself. Not that it really mattered to Steve. Surprisingly—or not so surprisingly, really—he understood exactly what Bucky was trying to say. Bucky sighed heavily, then, his hands unconsciously echoing his shoulders as Bucky shrugged again.

"But we'll never know now," he said, sounding nearly resigned if it weren't for the lack of disappointment to his tone. Some regret, yes, but it seemed clear it wasn't borne out of any lingering affections for Nadine beyond the sort of sympathetic bond their circumstances forged. Just like what Nadine had described back on the Helicarrier above Sokovia, Steve realized.

Bucky looked tentatively up to Steve, as though uncertain how his explanation was being received as he continued, "and…and even if I hadn't found Iris… I don't think there could be anything…lasting between us now even if there had been something… _more_. Not with everything that happened between us and…and to us. Not with all the time that's passed. There's too much…baggage." He winced at the phrasing, but seemed unable to come up with anything better. Nevertheless, the squirming thread of jealousy plaguing Steve finally began to relent. And it was as if a weight Steve hadn't realize had been sitting on his chest had lifted.

Bucky shot Steve a crooked smile, then.

"So you're out of excuses not to ask her out."

Steve groaned with exasperation, his head falling to his hands.

"Lost your mind for near seventy years and still you won't cut me a break," he muttered.

Much to Steve's mingled relief and chagrin, Bucky actually, genuinely, laughed.


	113. Chapter 38

**Dresden, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

Steve just watched in silence as Nadine stood at the small peninsula in the safehouse's—or bolthole, as she'd called it—tiny kitchen. Stripping, cleaning and reassembling her guns. It had grown oddly familiar. Not to mention oddly evocative of the reprieve a year before when they'd regrouped at the Barton Farm.

It hadn't been long after Bucky started goading Steve like his old self when Nadine had returned, bags of take-out in hand. Their meal had passed in relative, if somewhat tense silence, the only conversation proving to be a short, stilted back and forth spurred by Bucky's curiosity about how Nadine had gotten mixed up with the Avengers at all. Though, Sam's wry 'she just never left afterward' after Nadine's brief and entirely unsatisfying explanation of needing Natasha and the Team's help with a mission had managed to somewhat diffuse the tension, getting a chuckle out of everyone. Mercifully the silence that had resumed after their mirth quieted had been far more companionable.

Not that there was much call for conversation, their meal commanding the bulk of all their focus anyway. Nadine's conviction that they needed food was easily shown to be spot on as they were all proven ravenous with how quickly the mountains of local favourites she'd ordered had disappeared.

Followed shortly after by Nadine. Though Steve had known from the armload of trash mirroring her armload of food not long before that she was slipping out to dispose of it elsewhere—what abandoned building had trash, after all—it hadn't quite stopped the worry that had pooled in his gut, regardless.

She had been far more reserved during their dinner than she had been in the Beetle and Steve had to admit it concerned him. Nadine was a pro at hiding what she was truly feeling when she felt the need arose. And since she rarely felt secure enough to broadcast when she was unsettled, he had learned it was an indicator of a mix of comfort and how truly disquieted she must be for him to pick up on it.

He could definitely pick up on it.

And since she couldn't quite seem to bring herself to truly look at Bucky the way she did with Sam and himself?

It wasn't hard to guess what had her so unsettled. Though, he also suspected that was only one factor of many.

Heck, he was unsettled by what they would likely be facing in a few hours. Morning was coming quickly and with it the need to move on the facility where Bucky had been kept for so many long years. It went without saying why that was unsettling alone. Add in  _why_?

Not to mention why even getting to Siberia in the first place was likely going to be complicated?

Steve was almost certain their mission was going to be challenged by Tony and the remaining Avengers, either here in Germany or in Siberia should Stark and the rest manage to track them. His instincts said it was inevitable. Somehow, Tony and Company were going to be able to find them and confront them. It was not a challenge Steve was eager to face. Though, if the confrontation between his team and Tony's had to happen? Hopefully it wouldn't happen until they'd already reached the abandoned HYDRA base. At least then they might be able to reason with the others better, having proof on hand why the doctor had done what he did…why what he was trying was bigger than the divide of the Accords.

There was a great deal to be unsettled over.

And that wasn't even counting some of Nadine's more personal reasons.

Like the fact that she was now in the same room as her daughter's father after so many years searching. The very man she'd long believed she had wronged even though, according to Bucky—and according to Natasha and what Steve himself had concluded based solely on what Nadine had revealed—she had been just as much a victim as Bucky had been.

So, he really couldn't say he was terribly surprised that, not long after returning from her errand, Nadine had fallen back on the grounding habit of tending to her firearms as she did when stressed or troubled…or scared. Just as she had back on the Barton farm, back when Ultron and the Twins had nearly torn the Team apart and Nadine had been no closer to finding Nina.

Only this time, she didn't work with her eyes closed as she had then. Her pale eyes were open, but this time they were sightless, staring off at nothing as her fingers flew, deft and unerring, over the weapons. She was lost within her own head.

It wasn't until Sam spoke that Steve realized he wasn't the only one entranced by her task.

"So what's that all about?" Steve looked to the former paratrooper at the murmured question, his friend's expression visibly worried. Steve blinked, faintly surprised by the question.

He knew Sam had witnessed Nat giving in to almost exactly the same impulse in Sam's kitchen years ago, now, and again in Fury's secret hideaway before their assault on the Triskelion just as he had long before he'd ever seen Nadine do it. Only, until Nadine, he'd never pegged it as anything but a routine of Natasha caring for her gear as she prepped for a mission.

"Nat's never told you?" Steve asked back just as softly. Sam spared him an unreadable look before turning back to Nadine. With a snap-click, her sidearm was completed and set aside and, without missing a beat, reached once more for her rifle. After a moment Sam sighed softly.

"All she's ever said when she does that is that it helps clear her head before a mission." Steve nodded absently. Nadine had told him something similar that day in the Barton's kitchen; that it was calming in that it was habitual, familiar…even comforting. Sighing himself, Steve straightened, looking briefly to both Sam and Bucky, noting that his best friend was watching her too with heavily veiled eyes.

"Natasha's done it for as long as I've known her, but it was Nadine who finally explained it…she told me once that, before she was even ten years old, she could strip, clean and reassemble over thirty different firearms with her eyes closed within a set amount of time. That was the expectation. Same for Nat." A soft sound reminiscent of a dismayed groan escaped Sam.

"Why'd she never tell me?" he murmured. Steve bit back another sigh. But before he could answer, someone else beat him to it.

"Because that place was hell," Bucky murmured, his gaze no longer veiled but haunted.

Steve couldn't think of anything else to add. Bucky had said it all.

And they all nearly jumped as another, sharper snap-click sounded from the kitchenette.

But as Steve looked back to Nadine he frowned. He'd expected her to reach for one of her handguns again, but instead she stood, hands resting lightly on her rifle, staring down at the counter.

Staring down at her silent phone. Almost visibly battling with herself.

At once Steve's gut clenched.

He knew what this was really about.

Sparing Sam and Bucky a final look, he stood, making his way to her side. She didn't even look up as he approached.

"You can call her, you know," he said softly, carefully pitching his voice so only she could hear. "Let her know you're okay." Nadine let out a long, slow breath, weariness shadowing her features.

"No, I can't," she countered just as softly. She looked up, taking in Steve's uncomprehending frown before sighing sadly. "It'll be tracked. Either by Tony or Nat…" she fell silent, her features once again becoming impassive. Not that she quite managed to hide the sadness in her eyes. "And with this mission? With what's at stake? I can't justify risking it. Not even for her. No matter how much I want to talk to her—no matter that I—I need to—" Her voice hitched, her shoulders slumping minutely. After a moment she looked up to Steve, her eyes pained and dejected. "I was going to tell her, you know…once we returned from London…before all this…" she murmured, her voice so low Steve nearly didn't hear. "I was going to go up to Cambridge and…" she trailed off, eyes once again turning sightless before sliding shut as her head bowed back toward the counter. Her pale hair—once again loose having long since been freed from the Nina-esque bundle she'd adopted for her food run—falling forward like a fine curtain to hide her features from him. Her fingers tightened on her rifle, her knuckles going pale with the force of it. The gun creaked beneath the strength of her grip.

Just as it hadn't been hard to discern that she wanted desperately to call Nina, it wasn't hard to tell what she was talking about.

Steve hadn't missed the way she had glanced almost imperceptibly toward Bucky. Steve's chest felt tight. She had been planning on telling Nina the rest of the truth about her father. About Bucky.

And now that plan was in tatters.

The realization hurt more than he could've anticipated.

Not knowing what to say, he reached out, gently loosening the fingers of her hand closest to him from their white-knuckled grip on her gun, and holding it tight in his own. A small, pained sigh escaped her at the silent gesture, squeezing his hand tightly back.

Much to his relief, some of the tension visible in her shoulders eased.

And his own breath hitched as she unconsciously began leaning toward him, her shoulder brushing against his chest. It took everything he had not to pull her into his arms, knowing that, much as he might not care that they had an audience, much as she might just agree she even needed the comfort the gesture would've offered, she would care. As much as she had come to open up around others, especially those she knew and considered friends, there were some instincts that were too deeply ingrained.

Instincts that still considered any potentially perceived show of weakness dangerous, no matter who she was with, be it foe, friend or family.

So he just stood there, letting her draw what comfort she could allow herself to accept from the subtle contact alone. And he laced her fingers with hers.

After a long moment she sighed heavily and glanced up at him. And he couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in his chest that the stress he'd seen mere moments before had faded, even if only a little.

But it hadn't diminished entirely.

He knew full well that wasn't likely to happen until she saw Nina again.

And suddenly his stomach was sinking, realization pooling like a lead weight in his stomach.

If she were to throw in with them?

Who knew when she was going to see Nina again. There was every chance that they might be stopped by Tony and the team he was likely recruiting for in their mission to get to Siberia. And if by some miracle they did manage to make it to a fight with the other Winter Soldiers?

Either way, there was a distinct chance not all of them would make it back.

He already felt guilty enough at calling Barton in and the archer had a measure of protection from getting arrested, at least, through his past as an Avenger. But Nadine?

It was then that he caught her frowning up at him, her grey eyes questioning. He nearly smiled. Of course she'd picked up that he was now the unsettled one.

After a long moment, he finally sighed. He had a feeling he knew how she was going to answer—or maybe that was just hope—but he had to ask. His honour and his growing feelings for the woman so close she was nearly in his arms urged him on.

"Nadine," he faltered for a moment before fixing her with a nearly apologetic look. "You can walk away from this, Nadine. You don't have to…" He faltered as she let out a low, slow exhale, her features growing impossible to read even if her eyes had widened minutely in surprise that he'd asked. He wasn't even sure if she realized she was doing it, retreating behind her mask. His chest suddenly felt tight. Though he wanted nothing more than to have her by his side, oddly comforted by the idea of her fighting next to him, he couldn't say he'd blame her for wanting to run, either. Just like he wouldn't have blamed Clint if he'd declined Steve's call to step up.

Because he knew she was considering it. She was too pragmatic not to. Noble as he knew her to be at heart, as she'd proven herself to be time and time again since he'd met her, Nadine was a survivor first and foremost. She'd been trained and conditioned to be almost since infancy. She was undoubtedly weighing all her options carefully, no matter her personal feelings and how they might influence her decision one way or another. And with the threat of the Accords and Nina's safety hanging over her as it did now? With her covers blown in a way even Ultron hadn't quite managed and it only a matter of time before Nina was similarly exposed?

Much as he might be tentatively certain she intended to stay and fight—not that his certainty entirely quashed the small shard of doubt pressing in the back of his mind—she had to be wondering if she should walk away. If disappearing would be the best option for her and her daughter.

And the idea alone that she was considering leaving felt like a knife in Steve's gut.

"Steve," she started to object, her voice barely louder than a troubled sigh, "I…" But she couldn't quite seem to bring herself to follow through, her voice faltering. He nearly couldn't breath for the weight suddenly pressing down on his shoulders.

"It's okay," Steve said softly, attempting to ease the nearly pained, conflicted expression beginning to surface on her delicate features even if it nearly killed him to do so. If walking away was what she felt she needed to do… His chest tightened, part of him rising up to insist he needed to  _fight_ , to convince her to stay.

That he couldn't bear the thought of possibly never seeing her again.

But right as he began to open his mouth, preparing to try and convince her that she was needed with them—and with him, another part that sounded suspiciously like Bucky asserted almost smugly—Nadine sighed heavily, sparing him a loaded, pleading glance.

"I can't choose, Steve," she finally said softly, "I can't. No matter how much part of me wants to—to run? I just…I can't. Not with what's at stake."

He almost thought he'd misheard for a brief, pained moment. And once what she'd said sunk in? Steve wasn't prepared for just how potent his relief was, no matter that she had simply confirmed what his instincts had already told him, irrational doubts aside.

She was going to stay.

And with the way she was looking up at him? Steve couldn't even be bothered to care that his frame sagged minutely as those said irrational doubts dissipated, letting out a slow, loaded exhale of his own. Unable to restrain the sudden urge to brush his fingertips across her cheek, Steve earnestly met her eye once more. And his heart thrummed at the wealth of conflicting emotion plainly visible in the pale grey depths. Far more than he suspected she realized she was revealing.

"I know," was all he could say back, reluctantly letting his hand drop back to his side.

Oh, how tempting it was just to lean in a little closer…

But regrettably—and sensibly—reason prevailed, and he restrained the urge. Now was not a good time.

That conclusion was quickly reinforced as, trepidation mixing with a trace of longing in her eyes, Nadine spared a fleeting glance over to where Sam and Bucky sat.

Where the pair of them were staring intently at each other across the coffee table, the deck of cards sitting precisely in the middle, still boxed, between them.

Steve wasn't sure whether to chuckle or groan. Really, the two of them were grown men…

Nadine, however, did succumb, letting out a small huff of amusement at their behaviour, her head shaking slowly. Steve felt his lips curl into a fond grin of its own accord as he looked back to the woman still leaning against him.

"A little tense for a casual game, I suppose," he offered, not quite sure if his attempt at levity fell flat or not. Nadine huffed softly again, the sound mixing with a hum of agreement.

"It's the calm before the storm," she said wryly, "so not entirely surprising." Though not without a trace of weary resignation, Steve noted.

He sobered, then, noticing that, now that she'd given in and finally looked to Bucky, she couldn't quite manage to look away, barely sparing him a glance to go with her faint, exasperated grin.

It left him with a sense of certainty about what needed to happen next regardless of the tension from their impending mission looming over their heads. After what had happened in Bucharest and under the overpass? Heck after her visible reluctance to elaborate on how she'd even come to work with the Avengers over their dinner—not that Steve could entirely fault her for that, given how heavily Nina had factored in to her motivations and the lack of privacy he and Sam had represented.

What Nadine and Bucky both needed was a chance to clear the air—in private—before whatever it was they would be facing come morning. They both needed to confront what happened back where she'd been trained and Nadine needed to tell Bucky about Nina. And time was running out to do that. Without needing to check, Steve had a feeling that, outside, the first blush of dawn was likely beginning to appear on the horizon. It wouldn't be long, he suspected, before Clint made contact to let him know their reinforcements had arrived in Germany.

As though reading Steve's mind, or at least, realizing the same thing about the time that he had, Sam chose that moment to stand, stretching briefly before circling the couch he'd been sitting on.

"Well, if it's all the same to you super-Enhanced people, the normal person here is going to take a nap. Because, unlike the rest of you, I do need sleep," Sam interjected into the general quiet of the room before excusing himself.

Steve nearly drew back in surprise at the timely departure.

If that wasn't a sign… Steve hesitated nevertheless in offering his suggestion, though. He didn't want to run the risk of mucking this up, and well-meant or not? What he was about to suggest had the potential to put Nadine instinctively on the defensive, something he didn't want to do to her. Sighing, he finally settled on a direct approach, knowing Nadine tended to appreciate it more.

"You need to talk to him." Nadine started, jerking almost imperceptibly next to Steve as she almost—but not quite—managed to restrain her reaction to his murmured advice. She swallowed nervously as she looked up at him, lips parting as though intending to say something; to object or agree, he wasn't sure. But after a moment, she leaned a little more deliberately into him, her chin jerking in a slight, apprehensive nod.

"I know," she breathed, her gaze dropping to their hands, Steve's longer fingers still laced with hers. "But I—" he frowned as she faltered, an ache beginning to bloom in his chest at how abruptly helpless her almost inaudible words sounded. After a moment, she inhaled deeply, forcing herself to look back up at him. Steve's breath nearly caught at how  _vulnerable_  she looked. Of course she was afraid to talk to Bucky, he silently chastised himself. He should have thought of that. Their shared past was a tender subject, after all, and that was putting it mildly. His chat with Bucky had viscerally reminded him of that fact… The urge to comfort her from before surged back to life, the desire to pull her into his arms resurfacing with a vengeance.

"I—I don't actually  _know_  him, Steve," she choked out, voice still so quite it could barely even count as a whisper. "I know the Winter Soldier better than I know Barnes—" She gasped in a breath, and Steve's chest was suddenly feeling tight in sympathy. Her grip tightened almost painfully on his fingers. Off across the room, he could almost feel Bucky watching them, no doubt catching that they had been looking to him a moment before. But Steve ignored it. In that moment, Nadine was more important.

And given his conversation with Bucky before dinner? He was certain Bucky would understand.

"And…" she faltered as she tried to continue, her eyes falling to lock on their still joined hands. "And I'm scared," she breathed, her voice threatening to waver as it dropped so low Steve had to strain to hear her. "I'm afraid what—what he'll say, what he'll think…"

Almost before he could help himself, Steve lifted his hand to cup her jaw, forcing her to meet his eye. The nearly skeptical expression that came over his face stopped her short with a sharp, shaking inhale.

"You and Nat built a profile on him once you knew who he was, didn't you?" he questioned, trying but failing to hide a fond smile. "Of who he was before?" Mutely she nodded, unable to quite meet his eye. He knew he was right. With his help, the two sister spies had built a profile on Barnes before his time as the Winter Soldier, hoping that by knowing who he was both before and after, they might be able to predict his movements better. Judging by the faint, rare flush rising to her cheeks, embarrassment was beginning to creep in to overcome her brief moment of fearful uncertainty. Steve nodded, satisfied. She did know Barnes as well as anyone could. Besides himself, of course. She'd just needed to be reminded, apparently.

She had succumbed to a moment of understandable panic. And it was surprisingly endearing.

Steve smiled reassuringly, thumb absently tracing along her jawline. "Then you know as well as I do that you have nothing to worry about," he said confidently. She forced in a slow, shaking breath, repeating the action until her breathing once more evened out. And she leaned into his hands, her lids fluttering even if the nervous tension that lingered in her dancer's frame didn't quite disappear as she rebuilt her usual composure.

After a long moment, she met his eye, determination growing to mingle with the remnants of her apprehension. He squeezed her hand in support as the corner of her lip tugged in an attempt at a confident grin.

"Then I suppose now is as good a time as any."


	114. Chapter 39

**Dresden, Germany**

**Spring 2016**

She knew Steve was right. She really did.

But that didn't stop her apprehension from threatening to get the better of her once again.

It certainly didn't help that her embarrassment from losing her composure and blurting out her irrational fears to Steve still lingered. Bewilderingly, she was almost glad on some level that it had been  _Steve_  she'd unburdened on—she really had come to trust him more than almost anyone, she marvelled with a flood of undeniable affection—but that didn't quite overshadow how mortifying it had been to admit just how unbalanced the very prospect of talking to Barnes had left her.

Still, there had been a certain cathartic benefit to her admission. She had to admit to that.

Just as she had to admit he'd somehow managed to say precisely the right thing to help her get her irrational outburst of emotion back under control, playing into her reliance on preparation, reminding her she knew what she was up against even if it didn't wholly feel that way. Not to mention the unexpected amount of comfort she'd gotten from the way he'd let her lean against him, somehow knowing that anything more would only bring her discomfort in that moment despite the way a small part of her had craved being pulled into his embrace.

And from the way his fingers had threaded, warm and steady, through hers.

It was then that it hit her. More than trust, she felt  _safe_  around Steve. Safe enough to admit—aloud—that she was…afraid. Something she'd never truly done before.

Not even with her sister.

What was more, he had proven worthy of that trust. He hadn't pitied or coddled her over it. He hadn't looked down on her, or dismissed it. Instead, he had helped push her past it. It was…nice, being able to rely on him, on his support. Part of her insisted it was a sign of weakness…but…but it really didn't feel that way just as it didn't feel that way when she leaned on Natasha. It was a baffling and almost unsettling realization and flew in the face of everything she'd ever been taught.

Yet, at the same time it felt so…natural…

No, he was helping her to feel… _whole_  in a way she'd never known before. In a way her relationship with her sister and friendship with the Bartons had been starting to feel…but, somehow… _more_.

She couldn't entirely explain it.

But then, she didn't entirely understand the feeling enough to properly try.

He made her feel like she was capable of being far more than just what the Red Room and her troubled past had moulded her into.

Like she  _was_  more.

As if she hadn't fallen for him enough already…

Oh God, what was she going to do…she shouldn't be even thinking of entertaining the idea that there could be  _more_  between them…and yet…

Steve stepped away then and, with the corner of his mouth quirking in a final, encouraging grin, he excused himself. She fought the way her breath tried to hitch, forcing her heart rate to remain steady. She didn't entirely succeed.

"I'll take watch," he said with a glance to Barnes and Nadine, a subtle air of duty settling around him. Not that it was wholly for duty's sake of course.

Nadine breathed in a long, steadying breath.

Steve was right. She needed to talk to Barnes. To get her ghosts out in the open and off her back. Because her normal methods of coping with the shadows of her past—pushing them aside and compartmentalizing them away—weren't working anymore. Not with Barnes here, viscerally reminding her of what she had done to him and the secrets she still kept from him with his presence alone. And with what they were set to face? It was a distraction none of them could afford. What had happened in Bucharest and in the JCTC had made that abundantly clear. She had faltered. She had let her personal feelings cloud her judgement and dull her instincts. All because she had let him, and more critically the history between them, get to her.

She had to lance the wound her history with Barnes had caused.

Or she'd be nothing but a liability.

Nadine loosened her grip on her rifle, and made to step around the counter.

Only to hesitate as her eye fell on her dark brown leather jacket where it lay—innocuous save for the notable bulge over the interior pocket—next to her duffle. Pushing back another swell of unease, she slipped the Red Book free.

And inhaling deeply yet again to bolster her nerve and strengthen her composure, the words that she was considering tumbling through her mind as she debated how best to say what she needed to, she circled the counter. And despite the nerves still fluttering helplessly in her gut, Nadine was finally able to let her focus settle on the dark-haired man sitting on the couch, looking just as tense and uneasy as she felt as he stared unseeing at the coffee table.

Her stomach lurched.

She was really about to face him and the memories of him that had haunted her for over eighteen years, wasn't she…

It felt bewilderingly surreal as she sat down across from him, hands clutching painfully tight to the Red Book in her lap as she studied him unashamedly. More surreal than the moment she'd met his eye either in Bucharest or even back during their fight at the JCTC. More surreal than hearing him speak—truly speak—for the first time under the overpass or when he'd asked so innocently how she'd gotten tangled up with Steve and the Avengers, not knowing that his daughter's kidnapping had been the catalyst. She'd nearly panicked when the question had fallen from his lips, his expression guileless and curious all at once, totally oblivious to the weight of his query until Nadine's inability to properly mask her apprehension and alarm tipped him off that there was far more to the story than she'd offered in her vague answer. God, she felt so bloody guilty about that curt, almost inane answer:  _I got caught up in a mission where, once it became clear was too big for a single operative, I needed to find allies I could trust, and since I trust Natasha and she trusted the Avengers—and because my mission aligned with one of theirs—we all agreed to work together_.

But now was her chance to remedy that. To come clean about everything to the man sitting across from her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, feeling almost like it was struggling against the immense weight of her apprehension pressing down on it. And whatever she might have wanted to say caught in her throat.

For years she'd been debating what she would say to him when she finally saw Barnes again. Ever since she had resolved she would find him and help him the way he had helped her—since the very day her precious, innocent, newborn baby girl had been laid in her arms. And when she'd been confronted with the reality that it was actually going to happen? That she was finally going to get her chance to thank him? To beg his forgiveness for what had happened?

To tell him about his daughter?

She'd nearly faltered, only for the desire to finally have that chance to rise up and nearly overwhelm her.

She  _wanted_  to get it off her chest. She needed the closure even if absolution was beyond her reach. Beyond what she deserved. The hope and even expectation of forgiveness might be implicit in the act of apologizing, deserved or not, earned or not, but Nadine held no illusions that she had either earned or deserved it, so she certainly didn't hold to that hope. She'd made peace with that long ago.

All she cared about now was finally, properly facing her ghosts…and could perhaps even put them to rest…

She'd been carrying the burden of what had happened all those years ago buried deep within her for so long, that the very idea of letting it out, of finally being free of that weight whether he truly granted her forgiveness or not, left her nearly lightheaded with nervous anticipation.

But that very desire, to finally get the chance to resolve their shared history, had run hot and cold in the time since. For every different reason she could imagine.

Out of fear of his revulsion over what she'd done; the need to find a measure of closure over what had happened; the pain and horror of reliving that time; to finally give Nina the chance to know her father; the jealous desire to keep Nina to herself; the fierce determination to protect her daughter from being hurt; the fear of being hurt herself…

The fear of further hurting him…

And that was what was at the heart of her reluctance in that moment as she looked to Barnes. He sat, across from her, shoulders bowed ever so slightly, gaze fixed almost intently on his fisted hands as it had been since Steve slipped from the room, his jaw working anxiously. He was just as apprehensive about this as she was.

She really couldn't blame him for that.

Nadine hadn't been able to help but pick up on how shaken he seemed after whatever it was he and Steve had talked about. Oh, he was hiding it well, but he wasn't quite able to hide it from her practiced eye. She caught glimpses in the distant way he'd frown, traces of confusion flickering in his eyes as he almost seemed to be lost. Or the tense set to his mouth as his gaze would dart, almost panicked to Steve, as though desperate for reassurance that his friend was real.

Whatever he and Steve had discussed—and she had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly what they'd been talking about, given the way both of them had kept sneaking covert, thoughtful looks at her once she'd returned with dinner—it had been stressful enough that it had shaken the hold Barnes had on his mind.

And that realization left her genuinely worried that, if she were to try and talk to him, to at least try to clear the air between them, that she'd shatter what was left of the tentative hold he had managed to rebuild in his time in the run.

She couldn't bear the thought of doing that to him. Not after everything else she'd done.

It was one of many things that had been racing through her mind as she'd worked on her guns; contemplating what to say. How much she could say without pushing him too far.

What she needed to say.

There was so much.

But yet, there also wasn't.

Before anything else, she needed to apologize.

Yet she still had no idea how to say it in a way that wouldn't be horribly inadequate.

It was a mess.

But mess or not, it still had to be done. And whether or not now was the best time was a moot point. She looked down to her own lap, where she held the Red Book in a white-knuckled grip. The bizarre temptation to laugh caught in her throat. Of all the items to serve as a manner of peace offering. She could only imagine how she'd feel in his place, being offered something that had probably featured, directly or indirectly, in just about every one of his worst memories. But at the same time…maybe it was perfect. To be able to hold it in his own hands? It would be the perfect symbol that his mind—his life, even—was effectively once more his own.

Perhaps it was the best sort of offering she could make.

Taking her nerves and her courage firmly in hand, she stood again, circling the coffee table—unopened deck of cards still placed perfectly in the centre—to settle next to Barnes, careful not to touch him. He was like her in so many ways…she couldn't imagine he'd appreciate any unasked for contact after so many years of what he'd endured any more than she still did nearly two decades later.

Especially not from her.

Silently, she forced her fingers to loosen from the book, and laid it on the table in front of him.

He went still. Painfully still. Instantly feeling the shock suddenly pouring off him, she wondered if she had made a mistake. If with that single, seemingly simple gesture, she'd pushed his fractured mind too far…

But she didn't move, didn't react. Years of training masked as instinct—and perhaps some genuine instinct as well—told her just let him process.

"Where did you find this," he rasped out after a long, fraught minute. His metal arm whined with how tense he'd grown, while the muscles of his flesh arm wrenched taut, bulging with the strain.

"Sharon Carter found it," she offered softly, not realizing she'd automatically pitched her voice as she'd used to when soothing Nina when she was tiny and frightened, "after I realized what your…incident in Berlin meant about the doctor." He swallowed thickly beside her, his head bobbing in a sharp, jerking nod. After another long, uncomfortably silent moment, he reached out. Picking the horrible book up almost gingerly, he stared down at it in his hands, his forearms returning to rest on his knees.

"Thank you," he choked out, features unreadable save for the well of conflicting emotion in his expressive eyes. "I—just…thank you." She could feel tears rising thick and cloying, to the back of her throat.

"It seemed the least I could do," she said softly, her own voice laden with too much emotion for comfort. Emotion and brutal honesty. "I owe you."

He froze again, his head turning slowly toward her. But he wasn't quite able to lift his eyes to her face. Gaze dropping back, unseeing to the Red Book, he didn't speak for a long moment, his head shaking slowly.

"You don't owe me anything," he objected. She nearly couldn't breathe at how bewildered he sounded. Nadine shook her head, fighting back the tears suddenly trying to spring from where she'd stalled them back in her throat to her eyes. Did he really not  _realize_ …

"I owe you more than you know. I'm alive because of you, Barnes, and not just because you let me go," she insisted gravely, sounding far more collected than she felt despite the faint tremor that had begun threading her voice. "Hell," she added bitterly, "had I not run when I did? Had I transitioned to a fully qualified operative? When they eventually realized they wouldn't be able to control me the way they wanted, they might even have considered—considered doing to me what they did to you rather than simply striking me off; I was valuable to them thanks to what they did to me; my training, the Treatments. They might very well have turned me into another Winter Soldier." He jerked, his gaze finally snapping to her. She fixed him with an intense look. "You saved me from that." He just stared back, his expression sad and thoughtful and disbelieving all at once. Inhaling deeply, unable to stand the look in his eyes—the undeserved  _sympathy_ —her gaze dropped to her own twisting hands.

"I made it out because of you," she continued, acutely aware of how uneven his breathing had become, "and…and you gave me…" only to falter, Nina's name catching on her lips as her courage failed and a small flash of circumspection emerged; she couldn't just spring it on him. He was too agitated, too stressed. She needed to ease into the confession. She sighed heavily. "You gave me  _everything_ , Barnes. Everything I never thought I could have…I have a…a life because of what you did for me, because of what you must've…endured because of it." Her voice threatened to break, an ache pulsing in her chest, especially when his brow furrowed deeper at her reference to the price of his letting her go. "It only felt right to try and return the favour," she said softly instead, only to find herself unable to help the small grin that pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Though, you seemed to manage all on your own." A shaky huff escaped his throat as he spared her a veiled glance.

"I suppose I did, didn't I," he finally said, voice noticeably tight as he tried to hide how almost painfully unsure he was. The realization tore at her in a way that left her chest aching. He was trying so hard to sound normal…like he wasn't on the verge of losing what little hold over himself he'd regained since all his progress at rebuilding himself had been threatened in Berlin. A sinking, horrible feeling began to resurface in the back of her mind that she'd been sure she'd fought back since it first presented itself on the way to Dresden.

She wanted to be wrong…but…she was afraid she wouldn't be able to ignore it. Or what it would mean she had to do…

…or rather,  _not_  do.

Her stomach twisted uneasily, pressing uncomfortably against her diaphragm.

"Who else knows?" he asked softly then, derailing her thoughts and what she'd planned to ease into next. His voice was faintly hoarse, further proving the emotional strain he was under despite the way his features had grown carefully impassive in a way she recognized intimately. Nadine nearly started, caught off guard by the sudden question. He spared her a glance out of the corner of his eye at the flinch she hadn't quite been able to hide before looking up properly, gaze shrewd but surprisingly gentle despite the reluctance written plainly across his features and in the tension in his body. "About…what happened between us. Other than Steve."

"For sure? Other than…than Steve?" Nadine inhaled deeply to steady herself. Again, he picked up on it, his steel-blue eyes sharply perceptive. She shifted uncomfortably, not quite liking the feeling that he was seeing far more than she wanted him to.

It still felt odd, seeing him like this, with his mind more or less his own. He was a whole different person, not that she expected any less, but it was still a shock. Mentally shaking her thoughts back on track, she continued: "Natasha—she put the pieces together back then, already, to some extent. And…and one of our Teammates; Barton…Hawkeye," she clarified. His gaze intensified at how perfectly casual her tone was. At his pointedly quizzical look she sighed, knowing there was no getting around it. "It didn't come out in the—well, in the best way." Abruptly she was stumbling over her words, her guilt over what had happened both on the Quinjet and years before surfacing again from the place where she'd hoped to finally leave it behind.

"There's footage…of us… _together_. Steve, umm—it was sent to us, to the Avengers, to distract us during a mission. Steve and Nat saw it; Barton didn't, but he was there, so he heard. But it…it worked. Steve…" she faltered, remembered dread rising like a jagged lump of glass in her throat. Only to stiffen, her jaw clenching in self-reproach as a hot, damp trail suddenly rolled down her cheek. She angrily swiped the traitorous moisture away. "Well…it made it perfectly clear to him that I'd done awful things. Horrific things." Next to her Barnes sighed, setting the Red Book back down on the table with an incongruously eager reluctance.

"I think we all have," he murmured, voice painfully haunted, cracks beginning to appear in his own impassive mask. Nadine's shoulders slumped, the tension draining out of her as instead a bone-deep weariness rose to take hold.

"You may or may not remember, Barnes, but I took advantage of you—seduced you—when you didn't even have control of your own mind. That's in another realm of Bad." There was very little inflection to her voice, that fact revealing in and of itself.

But to Nadine's abject shock, Bucky just shrugged.

"That's not exactly how I remember it." Nadine's jaw actually dropped even as he shot her a brittle smile. "I'm pretty sure I remember you refusing to do it to your handler's face, and hesitating when you found yourself in just that situation," he hesitated, shifting uncomfortably much as she had earlier. He looked to her once again from the corner of his eye, unable to do so directly, inhaling a ragged, unsteady breath before continuing. "I—I remember you asking me if I knew what was happening, what you'd been all but ordered to do before starting to back away. It wasn't until I—well, I'd be more likely to call it me taking advantage of you."

"What?" Nadine breathed, feeling utterly bewildered and bordering on panic. "How can you not  _hate_  me for what I did to you? Or—or for what they did to you because you let me go?" Barnes shrugged again, staring sightlessly at the deck of cards sitting in the precise centre of the table.

"Probably because you had about as much choice as I did," he said simply after a moment, looking to her. "And…and it was worth it. Letting you go."

Before she could stop it, Nadine was gasping around a sob trying to rip out of her chest, her hands clamping over her mouth in a desperate effort to hold it back. Disbelief, relief, grief, remorse; it all swamped her, making each breath a battle as those emotions and more surged through her, constricting her airway.

And then his arms were around her as she started to shake and she was holding him tightly back as tremors began to wrack though him too.

It felt like an eternity before she felt calm enough to pull away from the bewildering comfort of Barnes' embrace. But she felt strangely…lighter as she did. Embarrassed, yes, but not so overwhelmingly so as she might have expected to feel.

It was then that it hit her how close she suddenly felt to him. How…connected. It wasn't at all like how she felt around Steve, yet neither was it how she felt around her sister. If anything, it felt a little like the kinship she felt with Clint; familiar, comforting.

But yet still totally different.

Familiar but not.

Connected—bonded, even—by everything they'd experienced together and the incidental…solace they'd each somehow managed to find in it. In each other. There was a kinship between them that only the other would ever be able to understand. Bizarrely, it felt even…platonic, for all that their past should've implied it be otherwise.

It felt astonishingly…precious.

Inhaling a deep, shaking breath as she straightened, she reached out, taking his hands in hers. He squeezed her fingers tentatively back.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said softly, looking up to meet her eye. Nadine's breath caught, her chest feeling tight even as her eyes begin to prickle traitorously once more at the—undeserved, a tiny, cruel corner of her mind still hissed—sincerity she saw in his steel-blue gaze.

"I know," she said quietly back, "and I never meant to hurt you." The corner of his lip tugged.

"I know."

His gaze fell to their hands then, only to be drawn slowly back to the Red Book where it sat on the table next to their knees. His features growing almost awed, he sighed heavily, pulling his metal hand free from hers to almost cautiously pick it up.

"After all this time…" he murmured, trailing off as though not quite believing it was real. His gleaming thumb brushed over the embossed black star. The corner of her lip curled in a small smile.

"The key to your mind's in there," she said softly. He spared her a glance, his expression at once painfully doubtful and hopeful all at once.

"Maybe," he finally ceded in the face of the conviction that was no doubt clear on her features; her masks had been soundly shattered by what had passed between them, that was certain. "And if it is…" A swell of hope on his behalf rose up in her chest at the longing suddenly written across his face. Nadine nearly smirked. It wasn't at all hard to decipher what  _that_  look meant.

Not knowing what she did now about his stay in DC.

"If it is, you'll go back to her?" For all that it was asked, it wasn't exactly a question, either. She had a feeling she already knew what he wanted; his reaction made his feelings perfectly clear. He started, looking up sharply at the fondly teasing tone she hadn't quite been able to restrain, a painful mix of anxiety and surprise in his eyes. She raised a brow in challenge. His mouth parted slightly, silent words struggling to form before he finally managed to find his voice.

"How…" he attempted with a frown. Nadine's lip quirked indulgently, mirroring the way her brow rose.

She hadn't wanted to admit it, before—still didn't, not entirely—but she'd been almost…relieved when the pieces clicked and she'd realized Barnes had fallen for the landlady he'd boarded with after DC. A small, nervous fear had surfaced as Nina had grown and started asking after her father or even just the story of how her parents had met that, perhaps, beneath his programming, Barnes had developed feelings for her. Feelings she'd long known she didn't reciprocate. For a short time years before, she'd wondered if the tenderness she felt for him—the connection— had been some form of love.

She supposed it was, in a way, but she hadn't fallen in love with Barnes. And sitting here, beside him now? That simple, reassuring fact was all the more clear.

When she looked at him? What she felt was not  _love_. Fondness, perhaps. Compassion. Sympathy. A sense of kinship. Affection? To a degree. But not love.

Not  _that_  kind of love, at least.

And it was abundantly clear the feeling was mutual. Something that gave her no small sense of relief, bizarre as it might seem.

Nadine's hand twitched in an unconscious dismissive gesture.

"I am the best," she brushed off with a nearly smug grin. "I just didn't realize until Sam let me in on her feelings toward you precisely  _why_  you'd stayed so long." He just blinked at her before huffing out a chuckle, his head shaking in disbelief. And Nadine breathed an internal sigh of relief as, one by one, the physiological and behavioural indicators that his mind was trying to slip his grasp diminished with each passing moment.

"So," he said then with a casual affectation so poorly feigned it seemed almost on purpose, "you and Steve?" She scoffed as he glanced almost impishly up at her, the ghost of a charming smile on his face. Nadine pointedly ignored the way her cheeks suddenly felt warm or how her breath had tried to hitch in her throat. And she suddenly had the distinct feeling Barnes was well aware he'd caught her off-guard.

The unsettlingly familiar way the corner of his mouth tugged made that clear.

Even more disconcerting, he seemed nearly  _smug_  about it.

"You're trying to imply there's something going on?" she deflected dryly. The corner of his lip quirked further.

"You like him," Barnes declared knowingly. She refused to look directly at him. Barnes' face was considering as the shadows there seemed to fade, though a hint of a sly smirk played about his lips as he eyed her…so odd.

"That's neither here nor there," she answered back firmly, fixing him with a look intended to come across as indulgently unconcerned. It didn't seem to work.

Of course it didn't…just her luck.

It seemed Barnes was another wannabe matchmaker trying to meddle…

"He likes you too, you know," he said definitively, leaning back into the couch with a glimmer of amused satisfaction playing about the edges of his considering look. "I've known him since we were kids in Brooklyn; he hasn't changed so much, really. I can still tell when he likes a dame." She raised a brow at him. He chuckled again. "Deny it all you like. Even after the last seventy years of HYDRA messing around inside my head, I still know when he's got it bad. And you're not far behind if my guess is on." She hummed irritably. Or, as irritably as she could manage given the ridiculous fluttering that was starting to press her stomach up against her lungs.

"Please," she dismissed with a scoff, "even if that were the case—"

"Which it is," Barnes interjected. It was so automatic, so instinctual to shoot him a chiding glare that she nearly laughed finding herself leveling one at him. And she might very well have, if he hadn't simply grinned in response. Though, the faint but persistent amused glint in his eye did soften her ire.

Yes, despite his insistence at meddling just as everyone else seemed intent on doing, she could definitely say she was growing to like this man.

Despite everything, he was still so…so open. So friendly and charming despite his reserve. It was plain to see why he was as easy to like as Steve had always described.

And she could certainly see how it would've been easy to fall in love with a man like him, she mused absently.

"Even if it were," she continued as though he hadn't interrupted, "it's not really a good time, Barnes, what with The Accords, Siberia, Peggy—" only to pause in her patient admonishment when Bucky suddenly frowned, giving Nadine a searching look.

"What? Peggy…I mean, Agent Peggy Carter? From the during the War, that Peggy?"

"Yes, Barnes, that Peggy," she confirmed with poorly concealed exasperation, her instinct to carefully hide her emotions away beginning to wake once more. Barnes shot her a faintly doubtful look before humming in astonishment.

"I thought she'd be long gone by now," he murmured thoughtfully.

"She is now," she murmured wearily before she could help herself. Bucky fixed her with a shrewd look.

"Since you've…known Steve?" he asked probatively, though not without a degree of care, evidently sensing it was a tender subject. Not that it was hard to figure out what he really meant instead of 'known.' Regardless, Nadine nodded mutely, pointedly ignoring the new but already familiar ache in her chest that still managed to surface whenever the SSR Agent's name came up. Bucky made a sound that had Nadine looking to him with a deep frown. "That sounds like an excuse to me…" he said, steel-blue gaze sharp but somehow disconcertingly gentle at the same time beneath the shadows she suspected would never truly go away, "and I think you know it. He does. He's moved on."

"She only passed away a week or so ago, Barnes," she pointed out; she'd already had this conversation, hadn't she? "Her funeral was the same day as the bombing in Vienna." He levelled her with another searching look, whatever surprise he might have felt at the news mingling with a brief flash of sadness that quickly fell away as he grew thoughtful. It wasn't often that she felt exposed, but even with her emotions once more carefully hidden behind her well-practiced mask, she felt like he could see right through her in that moment.

"And he's grieving for her, I'm sure," he admitted, "but anything he had for her was another lifetime ago, wasn't it. He's a different person, now, for all that he's still the Steve I know. I imagine he still loves her, sure, but as…as the last link to his old life."

"Then what are you?" she asked weakly. He shrugged before grinning impishly at her. She nearly laughed. It was nice, seeing him acting, well, like a regular person. Like the person he'd been before; the 'Bucky' Steve always spoke so fondly of.

"I'm in a category all my own," he waved off. She couldn't help the soft exasperated groan that escaped, shaking her head.

"You know, Steve was right about you," she said. He shot her a questioning look.

"Oh?"

"He said you had a habit of being entirely too charming for your own good," she quipped back with a fond smile. "I see that hasn't changed." He barked out a rough laugh.

"And he has a habit of falling for dames that don't fall for my charm," he teased back. Before she could help it, her cheeks were growing warm again, echoing the warmth that bloomed to life in her chest alongside a dull ache; why did everyone have to keep reminding her…it was hard enough trying to convince herself—

"You love him." Her gaze snapped to Barnes in alarm at his murmured revelation. Because it was a revelation, and not just for him… He was watching her with a look that bordered on wonder, a soft smile growing on his shadowed features. "You actually love him," he repeated, voice stronger and more assured before leaning forward again, nodding as though mulling the thought over. "That's good. He'd be good for you, and you for him, I think. He needs someone like you."

Nadine fought against the urge to swallow thickly. "Someone like me?" she repeated weakly, suddenly feeling…dazed, almost. Like her world was on pause until Barnes clarified. He shrugged, a curious glint in his steel-blue eyes as he considered how to explain.

"Someone who can stand up with him. Who can fight by his side," he finally said with utter, gentle certainty. And Nadine couldn't breathe.

She…she  _wanted_  that…more than almost anything she'd ever wanted before…

And despite knowing she shouldn't even dare to think it, that she shouldn't be feeling it at all, she knew then what that soul-deep desire meant.

Nadine abruptly knew, deep in her gut, that it was the same realization she'd been on the verge of recognizing back under the overpass. She tried desperately to push it aside.

She couldn't  _actually_  be in love with Steve. It had to be a product of her overwrought nerves combined with the fact that he was one of the few people she'd come to trust implicitly…helped on by her physical attraction to him, of course. It couldn't actually be  _Love_.

It just couldn't. It  _couldn't_!

But if it was…

Nadine scoffed, shifting uneasily despite herself before standing and circling to the couch across from Barnes, an anxious energy threatening beneath her skin compelling her to move.

"God, not you too…" she muttered with half-hearted aggravation as she settled herself with carefully curated indifference on the couch. Nadine fixed him with a stern look then, resigned to bear the forlorn hope that still lingered despite knowing better. "People like me don't fall in love, Barnes," she stated definitively. Or, so she hoped, at least. "Not with a history like mine."

As anticipated, he didn't seem to buy it for a second. His nearly indulgent, skeptical expression said that clearly enough. At least, until he sobered. He fixed her with a level look, the haunted shadows that lingered behind his eyes surfacing once more.

"Or mine…yet, still it can happen," he said softly, his despairing yet hopeful tone leaving her heart aching once again. But the words to deny it, to contradict him and insist that while he did deserve to find love, the differences in their situations made it painfully clear that she didn't, caught like barbs in her throat. Nadine swallowed thickly, knowing her eyes were probably far too bright, but unable to do anything about it.

The tears were once again prickling traitorously behind her eyes as it hit her why. Her eyes dropped, unable to hold his earnest gaze anymore.

Oh, how she desperately wanted to believe him.

And what was worse?

Part of her did believe him. The wistful, hopeful part of her that didn't want to fight it anymore.

Yet she knew she had to.

It was all she knew how to do.

But she forcibly snapped herself out of her conflicted thoughts as steps sounded on the stairs behind her, signalling their time alone was at an end. In a way it was a relief; cathartic as it had been, Nadine was quite ready to be done with emotional confrontations for the time being.

She'd said what she'd needed to, and she'd found her closure.

And, astonishingly, she'd even found some measure of absolution.

"So," Steve, said as he came to a stop next to the couch Nadine occupied, a reserved grin on his face as he looked over at Barnes before looking between him and Nadine. "What have you told her about me?" The light tone brought a crooked grin to Barnes' face. With a light chuckle, the former HYDRA agent quipped back: "Only the good stuff." Steve smiled widely. And bewilderingly, the anxious, despairing tension that had been swelling Nadine's chest began to deflate.

Shaking his head fondly at what Nadine suddenly suspected was an old joke, Steve inhaled deeply, a tick Nadine had come to recognize as him pulling his thoughts back on track. At once Nadine straightened, glancing to Barnes as Steve's features grew sedate; she knew even before he started talking that their reprieve was at an end.

"Barton's made contact. They're heading out from Frankfurt to rendezvous in Leipzig." He looked between Nadine and Barnes. "We should get moving soon too."

But Nadine nearly didn't hear him. At Steve's news, a familiar determined glint had lit in Barnes' eyes that she was certain she'd never seen on his face before.

As Barnes stood, exchanging brief clap on the shoulder with Steve before slipping off down the stairs, Nadine suddenly felt cold, dismay flooding through her as she realized the one, glaring thing she hadn't done.

She hadn't told him about Nina.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think!


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